Thicker Than Blood
Fat Joe Song Lyrics

(Fat Joe)I don't give a fuck about you dukeThe truth is you be talkin shit with no proofStill pussy after all that lootSmack you right in front of your troopsYou know how we do, pakinamac in the back of the coupYou loose, that's why you gon get itMe and my squad is known to set itFront guard and get ahead of thisIt's pathematic how you run the streetsI bring guns to beef, while you send your son to speechWe a hundred deep and stay bustin the heatPuttin niggas to sleep, in six feet sweapsJoe the Don, ready for war when it's onCome on, tell me who can hold it down this longI'm strong that my name will live on when I'm goneWord bond, I conquer shit like Genghis KhanYou been warned by the Terror Squadrans, ghetto sergeantNext time I see that ass in carter the'll be no pardonChorus 2X: ArmageddonTerror Squad pop, ain't nothin thicker than bloodI sware to God all my thugs die quicker than loveBut life flex again, I'll be back livin it upAnd If drop, you don't stop, keep lickin ya slugs(Prospect)Aiyo, it started off since 1979A young nigga that was born and destined to shineI've been thru ups and downs, cash tellin cracksBustin rounds, I saw buyers get hit up in crossfiresBosses retire, expired by hitmans for hireWines strictly for bitches, suckin dicks to get higherIn this world the more that you lustFake ones that do fake shit, only a dummy you trustHow can I have love walkin on this earth with dustHence the birth it was bug, I fiend search for the drugsAnd being punched supply the guns, when we curse you with slugsBut fuck it, everything ain't goin to work for you cuzI got to make these pesos in case lobes, niggas ya make foldLike envelopes and take notesHad an ash runnin the dash like JJ StokesWhen the gun smoke, I quote another Murder He WroteIt's thug emotions that I'm lettin off my chestTurn of the leader, tress and jess be the best like T.S.I'm in for life, ready to fight, my twins is hypeBetter get it right, or get dented on sightChorus 2X(Armageddon)I'm just tryin to figure what right, kinda hard to pull a trigger politeScriptures of right can't discribe how I'm sick in this lifePick up a mic and end it all in a sessionBlow my brains out, and let the kid sour the rezinI told ya niggas my brain was way above ya headsNiggas be slumpin dead, so snappin they spinesTryin to see what I fed, peep what I read in the eyes of my rivalIt might surprise, but jealously sometimes is the only way for survivalDon't get me wrong, I'm still a piece of shitStreet fires increased a bit, I might body a nigga for at least a nickQuipin the forty power, 24 hours of ArmageddonThe fly terrorist, chapter of sporty cowardsHoly sours, clense my sins thru repentenceA center of attention when the name of my enemy is mentionedA nigga inchin, must be but stinkin how my squad runCuz I ain't dyin till my fam straight, sware on my godsonChorus 2X