Joell Ortiz, Fat Joe - One Shot (Killed for Less) lyrics

Cook! (yeah) yeah, yeah yeah, yeah, uhh
It's that killa crack street music
(It's that Block Royal, Terror Squad music)
Crack, cook (Joell Ortiz nigga)
Listen (Knobody, WHAT UP)

One shot, two shot, three shot, OHH! OHH!
That'll send him right to the morgue
Four shot, five shot, six shot, shit, shit
That's for the wife and the kids
(I don't care about your money or
That shit on your chest)
Niggas get killed for less!
(And all that shit you be
Talkin man we ain't impressed)
Niggas get killed for less!

Whether, closed caption or high definition
You could probably find me
On that big screen, diamonds glistenin
"Ain't this a bitch man? That's
Joey from the Bronx
And all the dirt he done
How the fuck he mix the songs nigga?"
He ain't lyin, I'm a chemist on that table
My needle with the beige make
The competition hate you
Couple deaths on the block, now they rate you
Lil' Dex'll pull the trigger if I say shoot
One shot, two shot, 'nother nigga down
CSI searchin but his face
Can't be found nigga
Shit is crazy on the streets of the Bronx
Niggas yellin "Shots fired" but
Police won't respond
Where I'm from niggas pump that bass
And holler at your lil' sister right
In front of your face nigga
The working man's a sucker you heard, see
Nigga's gettin hot for twenty years
Still thirsty
I guess they share a bond with the 'caine
Now that's what I call rekindlin old flames
Get it? Who else but Coca in the Rover?
Sports kitted
Coulda been my 'ghini or my 'rossa
Life is for the living, get a chauffeur
Find yourself a bitch that
Don't mind eatin chocha
We spit murder, you's a victim, boy
If that ass get flashy we'll stick ya, boy!

Nah so don't die over nothin
Let your lil' crew gas ya ass
Cause on my block I was the Doc
Before Aftermath i had that
Rock in the spot the fiends had to blast
When I
Chopped it with pop and shoot past the glass
See I really hustle homie
This ain't no fabrication
They never called me back
I filled out many applications
Watchin these corny niggas come up
That was aggravatin so I hit the corner
Told 'em beat it like they masturbatin
I tried to have the patience I
Asked God for the answers
He took too long to respond so
I had a chat with Satan
He told me my dreams ain't
Have to stay imagination
Turned my wrecked Timbs to a
Stretch Benz for my graduation
Had all the lil' sluts at my prom salivatin
Scooped my diploma
I'm gone but I kept on calculatin
Colleges holla cause every grade
I had's amazin
It was school books or cool looks
When I pass with Daytons
Clappin at plays or hearin
My new Magnum flamin
Schoolgirls or I'mma earl
Look who this bastard's blazin
Long story short
Man I had these faggots hatin
I'm handsome, I'm cool, I got guap
And I get it crack-a latin
I come from the place where you
Get your hood passes made in
A brook where the only thing
Shook's on the stove marinatin
So when they say congratulations over the
Respect my pad is gainin
Know I ain't goin back, I'm aimin like

AOWWWW! That's what the fuck I'm talkin about
That real gangsta music, BIATCH!
Like that shit
You like how that shit sounds nigga bLAT!