Mr. Reporter
Hey, Mr. Reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?
Hey, Mr. Reporter,
I'll believe all that you put down.
I'll believe the sun is going up,
Even though it's going down.
Hey, Mr. Reporter,
Don't you twist my words around.
I'll kill you, I won't let you,
Distort my simple sound.
Hey, Mr. Reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?
Hey, Mr. Reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?
Did your daddy stop you playing
With your friends when you were young?
And is that why you run down
All the young folks have their fun. [?]
The reason I am stupid,
Is because I read you every day.
You misquote all of the true things
Because they rub you the wrong way.
Hey, Mr. Reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?
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Fat Joe Da Gangsta, got this in a smash, know what I'm saying?
Showbiz, Diamond D, check this out
Awww, one to the head, I don't give a fuck
Suckers better duck, buck buck buck buck!
I let off mad shots
You get dragged when you face the big shot
Yeah, and the Bronx is my territory
Suckers getting sprayed, end of story
Whether one deep or with my crew
I pack a .45, my girl packs a .22
Huh, so you know I'm all right
If niggas want beef, then I give 'em a hell of a fight
Yeah, I'm quick to blow a