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Twinz (Deep Cover 98) (feat. Fat Joe)
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Ready for war, Joe, how you wanna blow they spot? I know these dirty cops that'll get us in if we murder some wop Hop in your Hummer, the Punisher's ready Meet me at Vito's with Noodles We'll do this dude while he's slurpin' spaghetti Everybody kiss the fuckin' floor Joey Crack, buck 'em all If they move – Noodles, shoot that fuckin' whore! Dead in the middle of Little Italy, little did we know That we riddled two middlemen who didn't do diddily It'll be a cold day in Hell the day I take an L Make no mistake for real, I wouldn't hesitate to kill I'm still the fat one that you love to hate Catch you at your mother's wake Smack you, then I whack you with my snub tre eight I rub your face off the Earth and curse your family children Like Amityville, I drill the nerves in your cavity fillin' Insanity's buildin' a pavilion in my civilian The cannon be the anarchy that humanity's dealin' A villain without remorse, who's willin' to out your boss Forever, and take all the cheddar like child support I support Pun in anything he does, anything he loves My brother from another mother, sent from the above A thug nigga just like me, one of the best—might be Even better, leavin' niggas kneelin' on they right knee Spike Lee couldn't paint a better picture You small change, I'm blowin' out your brains, gettin' richer Hit ya with the MAC, smack your bitch, nigga what? You gettin' stuck, my trigger finger's itchy as a fuck Truck jewels, cruisin' in the Land, bumpin' Cash Rules Last crew to want it caught a hundred tryin' to pass through That's true! (So who the next to get it?) TS the best that did it (Get it off your chest, kid, admit it, and it's…) Yeah, and you don't stop! Twenty shot Glock with the cop killers, fill 'em to the top Yeah, and you don't stop! Joey cracks the rock, and Big Pun keeps the guns cocked Yeah, and you don't stop! We'll make it hot, nigga, what? Bring it, I blow your whole spot Yeah, and you don't stop! It's still one-eight-seven on an undercover cop Fuck the police, I squeeze first, make 'em eat dirt Take 'em feet first through the morgue Then lodge 'em in the deep earth The street's cursed, the first amendment's culturally biased


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