Prove Something Songtext
von Fat Joe

Cool N Dre, oh God
Got that gangsta gangsta gully gully
Yeah, big business
Joe Crack the don, uh
Terror Squad baby, BX borough
Hold it down to the death
It′s nothing realer than this, you heard


It's like I′m always out to prove something
Every time I stop on the block I set up shop and try to move something
And I'm talking about kilos and pounds
Fuck a desert eagle I got shit to spit over three hundred rounds
Tell by the scar on my neck I spar with the best
Joey Boombayay hit hard with the left
Sharp with the right, I don't know why I bother
Y′all not retarded man y′all know what the squadron is like
And your nigga he can get it too
But I let him die a slow death, I'll
Probably just put lead in his food
I′m deading your crew to tell you the truth we not stopping
I'm like Lil Lee from Beat Street, man I keep popping
The streets knocking my shit, the D′s watching my shift
We can do this however, east block or the fifth
I'll leave you chumps deframed, right where you standing
Daughter slaughtered and maimed, you should of paid the ransom

It′s the T E R R O R Squad
Nigga get it right, it's your nigga Joey God
And the kid flow hard, ask your clique
Niggas be like you crazy, we got classic shit


It's the killer kid from the Bronx, hold it down to the death
You can hear the squad coming by the sound of the techs
A hundred rounds in a sec, leave you on front page
You would think I was down with the Roc the way I Just Blaze
I puff haze to keep my mind at ease
Can′t wait for the day to see Shyne released
This hip hop shit is unjust, who you gon′ trust
When most these record label execs is dumb fucks
I keep a gun tucked under my belly
Only nigga on the island make it cost them a celly
We watching Belly on the TV, sixty inch TV
Flat shit attached to the back of the CP
This game need me, I'm like Gotti once I′m gone
All you gonna have left is a bunch of fake dons
Champagne with the women, run the game for the pudding
It's all the same, still running trains with my hoodmen
A bunch of good men, but don′t get it confused
We like DeNiro in Heat, nigga, nothing to lose
I know you seen the shootout scene, don't make us reenact it
I′d rather be laid up in the Atlantis with some featured actress

It's the T E R R O R Squad
Nigga get it right, it's your nigga Joey God
And the kid flow hard, ask your clique
Niggas be like you crazy, we got classic shit

Yeah, hell yeah, uh
Brought to you by the realest motherfuckers in this game, uh
The infamous Terror Squad
Yeah, real niggas, real dons, real G′s
Haha, come on, woo, uh
Joe Montana rest in peace forever
Never forget, Big Pun