John Blaze Lyrics
| Song | John Blaze |
| Artist | Fat Joe |
| Album | Don Cartagena |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Verse one：nas | |
| My stripes show like regiments, military intelligence | |
| Murder game, i leave no evidence -- credentials | |
| Go ask my pre-school, even talk to my old principal | |
| He'd tell you how you i used to pack a no. 2 pencil | |
| Stabbin students, grabbin teachers, catholics, preachers | |
| In the school staircase, cuttin class, passin my reefer | |
| In my own class, operation return, they tried to say | |
| I was incompetent, not able to learn | |
| The table turned now, got my own label to earn | |
| Like that nigga said in _dead presidents_, money to burn | |
| Queensbridge, pay homage, respect nas is the vet | |
| Acknowledge the rep, polish baguettes, niggaz is dissin that | |
| I'm just the best, puttin all violence to rest | |
| Between latin kings the blood _los sangres_, blood in spanish | |
| So many thugs vanish, unite the system | |
| To fight with inner street wisdom, to help teach a prison | |
| Verse two: big punisher | |
| My crew puff lye, anyone test the pun must die | |
| Just give me one try -- 'now you know you done fucked up right?' | |
| Hah, you ain't got no wins in my casa | |
| Que te pasa, you ain't even in my clasa | |
| I hate a actor that plays a rapper | |
| I'm terror squad beta kappa everybody's favorite rapper | |
| Grand imperial college material insane criminal | |
| The same nigga who known to blow out your brain mineral | |
| I reign subliminal inside your visual | |
| Try to supply your physical with my spiritual side of this lyrical | |
| I'll appear in your dreams, like freddie do, no kidding you | |
| Even if i stuttered i would still sh-sh-sh-shit on you | |
| Soon as i chitter chatter you shitter shatter, i'm the kid | |
| Out of bronx, that'll stomp you to death like it didn't matter | |
| I'm even better than before, iller metaphors | |
| Killers bet it all on pun, cause one verse, dead em all | |
| Chorus: scratches by dj spinbad | |
| J-j-j-john blaze | |
| Ja-ja-ah-john bla-blaze | |
| J-ja-j-ja, john blaze | |
| "johnny blaze ain't a damn thing changed!" --> method man | |
| Verse three: jadakiss | |
| Aiyyo my attitude is subject to change, i mess around | |
| And spit twelve at the driver's side door of your range | |
| Six hit you, the other six, up in your dame | |
| Mafia style, leave you with your watch and your chains | |
| Take heed that, not only can i flow i can aim | |
| Cause y'all misdemeanor niggaz can't stand the reign | |
| Better believe that, whenever i see y'all i'ma test ya | |
| Only cause i know that faggots respect pressure | |
| Hardcore, like shit you get, kicked out the yard for | |
| 'kiss ain't the cops, but i lock niggaz up | |
| You could meet me in my cell i soak and sock niggaz up | |
| Far as the flow go, you could let your dough show | |
| Put your money on the table, we could battle on cable | |
| Y'all hot dog niggaz get nathans | |
| Fuck around with jason, that shorty from the lox, john blazin | |
| Verse four: raekwon | |
| My son cool out (what) don't beef yo, throw the tool out | |
| Let's run these niggaz, kidnap they work, make em move out | |
| Crushed hash, hands is like glass, keep the heat | |
| In the dash, did some dirt for some work, caught a gash | |
| The flicker blocker, wicked sneaker rocker footwear | |
| Strike me out god, stackin up joints, rack em like footlocker | |
| This is raw, raw like fuck kid, represent | |
| Here to crenshaw, hold my words stronger than a benz stall | |
| Relentless, the anthology consolidated | |
| With the quickness, dress up in the wig and blouse, killer sickness | |
| Lex, imagination large, gold cards | |
| Beat the bogus squad brains that connect put on the older god | |
| Specialist, iciclist, woolridge collar | |
| Feelin the rich, work for every dollar don't snitch, that's why | |
| Broke niggaz who got heart god, sign em up | |
| Start the wind up, we john blazin, don up in the line up | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse five: fat joe | |
| It's simple mathematics, you gotta love us | |
| Cause joey crack plus gat equals a lotta dead motherfuckers | |
| Just when you thought i was done, i recruited pun | |
| Terror squad enterprise, undisputed dunn | |
| I'm from the slums where it's worse, bust with guns til it hurts | |
| For fuckin with my funds on the first | |
| And go to church like a mobster | |
| Discuss your death over shrimp and lobster, with my cuban partners | |
| Lucas with the cartridge, twenty shot | |
| Run up on any block, disrespect any cop | |
| Used to run many spots, now i own shops | |
| Gortex with the lot, five sixty-four bills a pop | |
| I'm hot, who wanna get burned? | |
| I fire one in your knot and watch your whole fuckin head turn | |
| You best learn to parlay, i've had a hard day | |
| Fuck around with the don and get john blazed | |
| Chorus 2x |
| Verse one: nas | |
| My stripes show like regiments, military intelligence | |
| Murder game, i leave no evidence credentials | |
| Go ask my preschool, even talk to my old principal | |
| He' d tell you how you i used to pack a no. 2 pencil | |
| Stabbin students, grabbin teachers, catholics, preachers | |
| In the school staircase, cuttin class, passin my reefer | |
| In my own class, operation return, they tried to say | |
| I was incompetent, not able to learn | |
| The table turned now, got my own label to earn | |
| Like that nigga said in _dead presidents_, money to burn | |
| Queensbridge, pay homage, respect nas is the vet | |
| Acknowledge the rep, polish baguettes, niggaz is dissin that | |
| I' m just the best, puttin all violence to rest | |
| Between latin kings the blood _los sangres_, blood in spanish | |
| So many thugs vanish, unite the system | |
| To fight with inner street wisdom, to help teach a prison | |
| Verse two: big punisher | |
| My crew puff lye, anyone test the pun must die | |
| Just give me one try ' now you know you done fucked up right?' | |
| Hah, you ain' t got no wins in my casa | |
| Que te pasa, you ain' t even in my clasa | |
| I hate a actor that plays a rapper | |
| I' m terror squad beta kappa everybody' s favorite rapper | |
| Grand imperial college material insane criminal | |
| The same nigga who known to blow out your brain mineral | |
| I reign subliminal inside your visual | |
| Try to supply your physical with my spiritual side of this lyrical | |
| I' ll appear in your dreams, like freddie do, no kidding you | |
| Even if i stuttered i would still shshshshit on you | |
| Soon as i chitter chatter you shitter shatter, i' m the kid | |
| Out of bronx, that' ll stomp you to death like it didn' t matter | |
| I' m even better than before, iller metaphors | |
| Killers bet it all on pun, cause one verse, dead em all | |
| Chorus: scratches by dj spinbad | |
| Jjjjohn blaze | |
| Jajaahjohn blablaze | |
| Jjajja, john blaze | |
| " johnny blaze ain' t a damn thing changed!" method man | |
| Verse three: jadakiss | |
| Aiyyo my attitude is subject to change, i mess around | |
| And spit twelve at the driver' s side door of your range | |
| Six hit you, the other six, up in your dame | |
| Mafia style, leave you with your watch and your chains | |
| Take heed that, not only can i flow i can aim | |
| Cause y' all misdemeanor niggaz can' t stand the reign | |
| Better believe that, whenever i see y' all i' ma test ya | |
| Only cause i know that faggots respect pressure | |
| Hardcore, like shit you get, kicked out the yard for | |
| ' kiss ain' t the cops, but i lock niggaz up | |
| You could meet me in my cell i soak and sock niggaz up | |
| Far as the flow go, you could let your dough show | |
| Put your money on the table, we could battle on cable | |
| Y' all hot dog niggaz get nathans | |
| Fuck around with jason, that shorty from the lox, john blazin | |
| Verse four: raekwon | |
| My son cool out what don' t beef yo, throw the tool out | |
| Let' s run these niggaz, kidnap they work, make em move out | |
| Crushed hash, hands is like glass, keep the heat | |
| In the dash, did some dirt for some work, caught a gash | |
| The flicker blocker, wicked sneaker rocker footwear | |
| Strike me out god, stackin up joints, rack em like footlocker | |
| This is raw, raw like fuck kid, represent | |
| Here to crenshaw, hold my words stronger than a benz stall | |
| Relentless, the anthology consolidated | |
| With the quickness, dress up in the wig and blouse, killer sickness | |
| Lex, imagination large, gold cards | |
| Beat the bogus squad brains that connect put on the older god | |
| Specialist, iciclist, woolridge collar | |
| Feelin the rich, work for every dollar don' t snitch, that' s why | |
| Broke niggaz who got heart god, sign em up | |
| Start the wind up, we john blazin, don up in the line up | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse five: fat joe | |
| It' s simple mathematics, you gotta love us | |
| Cause joey crack plus gat equals a lotta dead motherfuckers | |
| Just when you thought i was done, i recruited pun | |
| Terror squad enterprise, undisputed dunn | |
| I' m from the slums where it' s worse, bust with guns til it hurts | |
| For fuckin with my funds on the first | |
| And go to church like a mobster | |
| Discuss your death over shrimp and lobster, with my cuban partners | |
| Lucas with the cartridge, twenty shot | |
| Run up on any block, disrespect any cop | |
| Used to run many spots, now i own shops | |
| Gortex with the lot, five sixtyfour bills a pop | |
| I' m hot, who wanna get burned? | |
| I fire one in your knot and watch your whole fuckin head turn | |
| You best learn to parlay, i' ve had a hard day | |
| Fuck around with the don and get john blazed | |
| Chorus 2x |
| Verse one: nas | |
| My stripes show like regiments, military intelligence | |
| Murder game, i leave no evidence credentials | |
| Go ask my preschool, even talk to my old principal | |
| He' d tell you how you i used to pack a no. 2 pencil | |
| Stabbin students, grabbin teachers, catholics, preachers | |
| In the school staircase, cuttin class, passin my reefer | |
| In my own class, operation return, they tried to say | |
| I was incompetent, not able to learn | |
| The table turned now, got my own label to earn | |
| Like that nigga said in _dead presidents_, money to burn | |
| Queensbridge, pay homage, respect nas is the vet | |
| Acknowledge the rep, polish baguettes, niggaz is dissin that | |
| I' m just the best, puttin all violence to rest | |
| Between latin kings the blood _los sangres_, blood in spanish | |
| So many thugs vanish, unite the system | |
| To fight with inner street wisdom, to help teach a prison | |
| Verse two: big punisher | |
| My crew puff lye, anyone test the pun must die | |
| Just give me one try ' now you know you done fucked up right?' | |
| Hah, you ain' t got no wins in my casa | |
| Que te pasa, you ain' t even in my clasa | |
| I hate a actor that plays a rapper | |
| I' m terror squad beta kappa everybody' s favorite rapper | |
| Grand imperial college material insane criminal | |
| The same nigga who known to blow out your brain mineral | |
| I reign subliminal inside your visual | |
| Try to supply your physical with my spiritual side of this lyrical | |
| I' ll appear in your dreams, like freddie do, no kidding you | |
| Even if i stuttered i would still shshshshit on you | |
| Soon as i chitter chatter you shitter shatter, i' m the kid | |
| Out of bronx, that' ll stomp you to death like it didn' t matter | |
| I' m even better than before, iller metaphors | |
| Killers bet it all on pun, cause one verse, dead em all | |
| Chorus: scratches by dj spinbad | |
| Jjjjohn blaze | |
| Jajaahjohn blablaze | |
| Jjajja, john blaze | |
| " johnny blaze ain' t a damn thing changed!" method man | |
| Verse three: jadakiss | |
| Aiyyo my attitude is subject to change, i mess around | |
| And spit twelve at the driver' s side door of your range | |
| Six hit you, the other six, up in your dame | |
| Mafia style, leave you with your watch and your chains | |
| Take heed that, not only can i flow i can aim | |
| Cause y' all misdemeanor niggaz can' t stand the reign | |
| Better believe that, whenever i see y' all i' ma test ya | |
| Only cause i know that faggots respect pressure | |
| Hardcore, like shit you get, kicked out the yard for | |
| ' kiss ain' t the cops, but i lock niggaz up | |
| You could meet me in my cell i soak and sock niggaz up | |
| Far as the flow go, you could let your dough show | |
| Put your money on the table, we could battle on cable | |
| Y' all hot dog niggaz get nathans | |
| Fuck around with jason, that shorty from the lox, john blazin | |
| Verse four: raekwon | |
| My son cool out what don' t beef yo, throw the tool out | |
| Let' s run these niggaz, kidnap they work, make em move out | |
| Crushed hash, hands is like glass, keep the heat | |
| In the dash, did some dirt for some work, caught a gash | |
| The flicker blocker, wicked sneaker rocker footwear | |
| Strike me out god, stackin up joints, rack em like footlocker | |
| This is raw, raw like fuck kid, represent | |
| Here to crenshaw, hold my words stronger than a benz stall | |
| Relentless, the anthology consolidated | |
| With the quickness, dress up in the wig and blouse, killer sickness | |
| Lex, imagination large, gold cards | |
| Beat the bogus squad brains that connect put on the older god | |
| Specialist, iciclist, woolridge collar | |
| Feelin the rich, work for every dollar don' t snitch, that' s why | |
| Broke niggaz who got heart god, sign em up | |
| Start the wind up, we john blazin, don up in the line up | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse five: fat joe | |
| It' s simple mathematics, you gotta love us | |
| Cause joey crack plus gat equals a lotta dead motherfuckers | |
| Just when you thought i was done, i recruited pun | |
| Terror squad enterprise, undisputed dunn | |
| I' m from the slums where it' s worse, bust with guns til it hurts | |
| For fuckin with my funds on the first | |
| And go to church like a mobster | |
| Discuss your death over shrimp and lobster, with my cuban partners | |
| Lucas with the cartridge, twenty shot | |
| Run up on any block, disrespect any cop | |
| Used to run many spots, now i own shops | |
| Gortex with the lot, five sixtyfour bills a pop | |
| I' m hot, who wanna get burned? | |
| I fire one in your knot and watch your whole fuckin head turn | |
| You best learn to parlay, i' ve had a hard day | |
| Fuck around with the don and get john blazed | |
| Chorus 2x |
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