Breathe And Stop
Fat Joe/The Game
Popularity ยท Low
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Lyrics
Yeah, it's the Profit, it's the Profit
East Coast, West Coast, come down selector, see it
Latino Market, you know we got that in Memphis
You writin' them checks, go holla at my boy Damon
All my, throw your dubs up
If you ain't from the Westside, put your guns up
Let a shot go, squeeze and pop
Let them feel it when the bassline drop
And all my, throw you're hands up
You in the club with you're girls, call your man up
'Cause you ain't comin' home, mami
Breathe and stop, exhale when the bassline drop
Aiyyo, there's murder on the streets
Killa capital, I'm blastin' you
For the love of this dough, that's what I have to do
I'm posted up, corner king, they named me Coka
Got caught, didn't say a thing, you're not supposed to
La Costa Nostra, Gotti gang, my shotty ring
Call it a killer's exhibition, let the body hang
A real work of art, show your heart, I blow you smart
Yeah, it's the ghetto god, rep the Bronx 'til I'm gone
Was sent to prison, you know me, homie, the chromey's itchin'
Leave you holy if you rollin' with some bad intentions
Fit the, then again you know that
And we don't never see him in the hood and he owe rats
Joey don't give a, told my hold that
Usually found in the kitchen, where the stove at?
Got that, got that, get them sacks
My little man pitchin', yeah, we call him Sandy Cossacks
All my, throw your dubs up
If you ain't from the Westside, put your guns up
Let a shot go, squeeze and pop
Let them feel it when the bassline drop
And all my, throw you're hands up
You in the club with you're girls, call your man up
'Cause you ain't comin' home, mami
Breathe and stop, exhale when the bassline drop