Forget if you can Romantic music one magical night A corner table in dim candle light A kiss that was heaven for two Forget if you can The day we hiked
's Cecil B. DeMille Come on, L.A. give us a call We've got superstars who talk, they'll do anything at all Ingrid, Viva, Little Joe, Baby Jane and Eddie
to say Is "I quit, I'm through with you" Pack up your raps and join the Dangerous Crew We got mo' beats than the average joe And a 24-track studio
That's right) We about to attack this (Harlem Inc, Murder Inc) Yeah (Nicky Bond) Jimmy Cagney type shit, Nicky Santoro ([Incomprehensible]) All my little short niggaz Joe
pump cause I'm out of the hood that's a stereotype like everyone that's black can jump I where a white mink, the fabric is done got rings that bling like Mike, Byrd, Magic
watchin TV, playin NBA Jam Im comin through bangin screw in my hoo-doo Im lettin that nigga Joe on the mic I thought you niggas knew (Haircut Joe) [23
I'm gone with the other two Copped ten sold five then I hide three Baking soda residue I'm gone with the other two Fuck a magic stick Jeezy got a magic
we rock charms as big as Vegas Different crews of different size try to player hate us Top of the league like Bulls and y'all cats is Lakers Trash since Magic
[Fat Joe - Verse 1] Wrist on froze, thanks to the stove; Mattress financial, bank's never closed; Monday to Sunday, serve all addicts; Joey Van Gundy,
care, he's still locked up in his house and shit Steroid up and he wont come about that bitch Is it me or does candy shop sound like magic stick? In
' 'em (Ha ha) Slow down, son, you killin' 'em (Ha ha) Slow down, son, you killin' 'em Always on my hard shit, Joey Viagra Pull up, make 'em car sick, abracadabra Presto magic
t care, he stay locked up in the house an' shit Steroid up and he won't come about that bitch Is it me or 'Candy Shop' sound like 'Magic Stick'? In the
your car I'd be like ahh fuck If I was a balloon I'd be like.... If I was Alyssa Milano I'd be fucking Joe Bruce If I was a radio DJ I'd probably say
taste up outcha mouth I'm the last seconds on a doomsday clock Like an open box of Anthrax chillin on a desktop Execution and illusion of art Like a wizard's magic
that was better than jail Now look we like Bird, Parish, Kevin McHale Scott, Worthy, Jabbar, and Magic Oh my god it's Magic, Isiah, Dumars, I will carve
what you do, make it work for you Copped ten, sold five then I hide three Baking soda residue, I'm gone with the other two Fuck a magic stick, Jeezy got a magic
But tru niggas don't ride, by any means I went to jail, my nigga post bail We saw the (jump out boys, too tall? ? ) My niggas took the charge My second joe
their voice and start to scream We already blew the glory weed Your well done fury don't deserve to pull me down That facile magic show can't burn away