Success Lyrics by Fat Joe

Success Lyrics

    Yeah
    This joint right here is goin out to everybody gettin money
    I mean the real CREAM
    All up and down the East and West coast
    Check it *echoes*

    Chorus: repeat 2X

    Hustlin is the key to success
    Money is the key to sex
    The life is gettin cash, drinkin Mo', gettin blessed
    The games people play
    The names people slay
    It's just another ordinary day

    One's for the cash, two's for every blunt's ash
    Three's for all the 40 brews goin to cruise the bowel
    Four's for the drugs, sex, and power
    I be the top dolla scala, rockin gold collars
    While you tryin to sip the juice, I'm takin swallows
    Step into my zone and get blown, ? internationally known
    Yeah, in case you haven't heard the rep
    Have an appetite for beef and get, hand fed led
    Rapid-fire echoes through your, vicinity
    Why you messin with this nigga from Trinity?
    For every shell that fell, there's a story to tell
    But it's a fine line between grapevines and pines
    Knahmean? There's no room for snitches and loud bitches
    But it's always room for riches and deep ditches
    That's how it be in this everlasting game
    Declaring war on cocks, and leavin chumps slain
    So maintain, and put the frontin to a rest
    Or today'll be the grand openin of your chest
    Success, triple beam, knahmean?
    Dolla dolla bill

    Chorus

    The streets are full of vengeance, and it's expensive
    If you don't organize your words right in your sentence
    Twelve gauge holes take souls and lives are lost
    Who said an arm and a leg was a high cost to toss?
    Things are done different, in my zip code
    Hollow tips implode, dum-dums explode
    Now your crew is screamin like they see demons when I reload
    You can't comprehend, act like you want it for clarity
    I'm pushin wigs, handin out jigs like charity
    You best to get your groove on, or get moved on
    Or play the hot steppa, and die with your shoes on
    I collects ass and cash
    While my crew consumes liquor and hash, and keep the stash
    Whether, hustlin or dustin we get busy with ours
    T.S., T.A.T., respect for miles
    The Bronx is the turf, South is the area
    Bring ten, bring twenty, the more guns the merrier
    Nobody's bad as me, no cops nabbin me
    Front if you dare and I'll change your whole anatomy
    For real... uh!

    Chorus (repeat to fade)

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