Misery Needs Company Lyrics
| Song | Misery Needs Company |
| Artist | Fat Joe |
| Album | Don Cartagena |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Cartagena, Padilla, Santiago | |
| Yo, yo, one's for the cash, two's for my faculty | |
| Three's for all the | |
| M-3's racin' across the | |
| TapenzeMatchin' | |
| C's followed by the white | |
| Lincoln drivin' like | |
| I ain't thinkin' | |
| Wit my hats and lights blinkin', let the lah sink in | |
| On the way to home base | |
| First clown in my face is gettin' thrown out the place | |
| We rush *******t, untouchable | |
| Don *******t, that's nothin' new | |
| Sets with stone arms just to muscle you, enough of you | |
| That had a bad case of | |
| Joe, some even had to go | |
| Gangsta walk and nines, at times | |
| I be the last to know | |
| We laugh and joke, while we bag in the coke | |
| My A done make the worst things out the cast of | |
| Different | |
| StrokesI'm addicted to street life, although it doesn't seem right | |
| Many criticize but yo we all go to eat right? | |
| And who's to say that | |
| I'm to blame, we only pawns in this game | |
| Decision, grow ******* | |
| I don't want no cure for this | |
| You switch, | |
| I pour the | |
| CrisAnd just, stay rich, and reminisce | |
| While I count my chips | |
| Yo, you scared to death, misery need company | |
| Crab slackers, *****s actin' like they mad rappers | |
| Even wit a record deal, our guns still peal | |
| Break a piece of your brain, wipe the stain | |
| Throw the | |
| Range off, police-iano | |
| Watch for | |
| Hondo, they lookin' at our poster now, playin' us closer now | |
| The funds follow us, what, these *******es swallow us | |
| And you wonder why you can't find us | |
| I, ton and tender wit millionaires, gave a million stares | |
| Made a million scared, my beats don' knocked | |
| For what seemed like a million years, yeah | |
| This illegal life | |
| I can't avoid, | |
| I take the feds everywhere | |
| I goThat's why | |
| I'm paranoid, but still | |
| I choose to ignore the fact | |
| I got the flawless | |
| Acs wit gats to get that enormous stack | |
| Joey Crack, the mack without the hat | |
| And all our hoes dine and ride in the back seat of my | |
| CadillacI bet you hate it 'cuz we paid and floss, ***** we laid and lost | |
| T.S.'ll make the baddest crews take a loss | |
| Break your ***** like | |
| Bahondo, call me | |
| Don JoeCoke slash sweaty rock, *****s drop a dime dough | |
| Booked the nine o'clock, flight to | |
| AlandoSo-called killers turned snitches like | |
| RivonoThat ***** | |
| Gauno up in | |
| M-C, is bein' friendly | |
| Every time | |
| I see his wife and kids the *******t tempts me | |
| My heart is empty | |
| Never feelin' remorse | |
| I got a sniper one killed in the cross | |
| Ready to kill your boss | |
| Yo, you scared to death, misery need company | |
| Crab slackers, *****s actin' like they mad rappers | |
| Even wit a record deal, our guns still peal | |
| Break a piece of your brain, wipe the stain | |
| Throw the | |
| Range off, police-iano | |
| Watch for | |
| Hondo, they lookin' at our poster now, playin' us closer now | |
| The funds follow us, what, these *******es swallow us | |
| And you wonder why you can't find us | |
| Yo, yo Jose | |
| Luis, smoke lah like the reverend | |
| Look in the skies, clouds look like coke 'n heaven | |
| Like whoever sittin' on pies two, gettin' high too | |
| Mad fly too, a thug too | |
| Yo we praise those, however you make your pesos | |
| Keep the *******t tight just like, | |
| Jose Canseco's | |
| Batting stance, a majorly we glance, and gotta yell, "What, what"' | |
| Cuz thug *****s don't dance yo | |
| I told *****s, that you did it for show | |
| But *****s thought you was ill yo | |
| Even your hoe, yo for real young blood | |
| I'm really afraid so | |
| Your colors got revealed and now you buy dough | |
| Impost-o's, locos, morenos, go-golos, boriquas, platin-o's | |
| My *****s rollin' those, fontos and hydros | |
| You know how that goes, | |
| DE's light it up though | |
| We stay smokin' it, tone-locin' it, me and | |
| Fat Joe still provoking it | |
| Yo, yo yo, you scared to death, misery need company | |
| Crab slackers, *****s actin' like they mad rappers | |
| Even wit a record deal, our guns still peal | |
| Break a piece of your brain, wipe the stain | |
| Throw the | |
| Range off, police-iano | |
| Watch for | |
| Hondo, they lookin' at our poster now, playin' us closer now | |
| The funds follow us, what, these *******es swallow us | |
| And you wonder why you can't find us | |
| Ha ha, mad rappers | |
| Stain off, range off, watch out | |
| Polic-iano's, | |
| Pabolos amigos | |
| Fat Joe, Fat | |
| Joe, Fat Joe, yeah yeah |
| zuo ci : Cartagena, Padilla, Santiago | |
| Yo, yo, one' s for the cash, two' s for my faculty | |
| Three' s for all the | |
| M3' s racin' across the | |
| TapenzeMatchin' | |
| C' s followed by the white | |
| Lincoln drivin' like | |
| I ain' t thinkin' | |
| Wit my hats and lights blinkin', let the lah sink in | |
| On the way to home base | |
| First clown in my face is gettin' thrown out the place | |
| We rush t, untouchable | |
| Don t, that' s nothin' new | |
| Sets with stone arms just to muscle you, enough of you | |
| That had a bad case of | |
| Joe, some even had to go | |
| Gangsta walk and nines, at times | |
| I be the last to know | |
| We laugh and joke, while we bag in the coke | |
| My A done make the worst things out the cast of | |
| Different | |
| StrokesI' m addicted to street life, although it doesn' t seem right | |
| Many criticize but yo we all go to eat right? | |
| And who' s to say that | |
| I' m to blame, we only pawns in this game | |
| Decision, grow | |
| I don' t want no cure for this | |
| You switch, | |
| I pour the | |
| CrisAnd just, stay rich, and reminisce | |
| While I count my chips | |
| Yo, you scared to death, misery need company | |
| Crab slackers, s actin' like they mad rappers | |
| Even wit a record deal, our guns still peal | |
| Break a piece of your brain, wipe the stain | |
| Throw the | |
| Range off, policeiano | |
| Watch for | |
| Hondo, they lookin' at our poster now, playin' us closer now | |
| The funds follow us, what, these es swallow us | |
| And you wonder why you can' t find us | |
| I, ton and tender wit millionaires, gave a million stares | |
| Made a million scared, my beats don' knocked | |
| For what seemed like a million years, yeah | |
| This illegal life | |
| I can' t avoid, | |
| I take the feds everywhere | |
| I goThat' s why | |
| I' m paranoid, but still | |
| I choose to ignore the fact | |
| I got the flawless | |
| Acs wit gats to get that enormous stack | |
| Joey Crack, the mack without the hat | |
| And all our hoes dine and ride in the back seat of my | |
| CadillacI bet you hate it ' cuz we paid and floss, we laid and lost | |
| T. S.' ll make the baddest crews take a loss | |
| Break your like | |
| Bahondo, call me | |
| Don JoeCoke slash sweaty rock, s drop a dime dough | |
| Booked the nine o' clock, flight to | |
| AlandoSocalled killers turned snitches like | |
| RivonoThat | |
| Gauno up in | |
| MC, is bein' friendly | |
| Every time | |
| I see his wife and kids the t tempts me | |
| My heart is empty | |
| Never feelin' remorse | |
| I got a sniper one killed in the cross | |
| Ready to kill your boss | |
| Yo, you scared to death, misery need company | |
| Crab slackers, s actin' like they mad rappers | |
| Even wit a record deal, our guns still peal | |
| Break a piece of your brain, wipe the stain | |
| Throw the | |
| Range off, policeiano | |
| Watch for | |
| Hondo, they lookin' at our poster now, playin' us closer now | |
| The funds follow us, what, these es swallow us | |
| And you wonder why you can' t find us | |
| Yo, yo Jose | |
| Luis, smoke lah like the reverend | |
| Look in the skies, clouds look like coke ' n heaven | |
| Like whoever sittin' on pies two, gettin' high too | |
| Mad fly too, a thug too | |
| Yo we praise those, however you make your pesos | |
| Keep the t tight just like, | |
| Jose Canseco' s | |
| Batting stance, a majorly we glance, and gotta yell, " What, what"' | |
| Cuz thug s don' t dance yo | |
| I told s, that you did it for show | |
| But s thought you was ill yo | |
| Even your hoe, yo for real young blood | |
| I' m really afraid so | |
| Your colors got revealed and now you buy dough | |
| Imposto' s, locos, morenos, gogolos, boriquas, platino' s | |
| My s rollin' those, fontos and hydros | |
| You know how that goes, | |
| DE' s light it up though | |
| We stay smokin' it, tonelocin' it, me and | |
| Fat Joe still provoking it | |
| Yo, yo yo, you scared to death, misery need company | |
| Crab slackers, s actin' like they mad rappers | |
| Even wit a record deal, our guns still peal | |
| Break a piece of your brain, wipe the stain | |
| Throw the | |
| Range off, policeiano | |
| Watch for | |
| Hondo, they lookin' at our poster now, playin' us closer now | |
| The funds follow us, what, these es swallow us | |
| And you wonder why you can' t find us | |
| Ha ha, mad rappers | |
| Stain off, range off, watch out | |
| Policiano' s, | |
| Pabolos amigos | |
| Fat Joe, Fat | |
| Joe, Fat Joe, yeah yeah |
| zuò cí : Cartagena, Padilla, Santiago | |
| Yo, yo, one' s for the cash, two' s for my faculty | |
| Three' s for all the | |
| M3' s racin' across the | |
| TapenzeMatchin' | |
| C' s followed by the white | |
| Lincoln drivin' like | |
| I ain' t thinkin' | |
| Wit my hats and lights blinkin', let the lah sink in | |
| On the way to home base | |
| First clown in my face is gettin' thrown out the place | |
| We rush t, untouchable | |
| Don t, that' s nothin' new | |
| Sets with stone arms just to muscle you, enough of you | |
| That had a bad case of | |
| Joe, some even had to go | |
| Gangsta walk and nines, at times | |
| I be the last to know | |
| We laugh and joke, while we bag in the coke | |
| My A done make the worst things out the cast of | |
| Different | |
| StrokesI' m addicted to street life, although it doesn' t seem right | |
| Many criticize but yo we all go to eat right? | |
| And who' s to say that | |
| I' m to blame, we only pawns in this game | |
| Decision, grow | |
| I don' t want no cure for this | |
| You switch, | |
| I pour the | |
| CrisAnd just, stay rich, and reminisce | |
| While I count my chips | |
| Yo, you scared to death, misery need company | |
| Crab slackers, s actin' like they mad rappers | |
| Even wit a record deal, our guns still peal | |
| Break a piece of your brain, wipe the stain | |
| Throw the | |
| Range off, policeiano | |
| Watch for | |
| Hondo, they lookin' at our poster now, playin' us closer now | |
| The funds follow us, what, these es swallow us | |
| And you wonder why you can' t find us | |
| I, ton and tender wit millionaires, gave a million stares | |
| Made a million scared, my beats don' knocked | |
| For what seemed like a million years, yeah | |
| This illegal life | |
| I can' t avoid, | |
| I take the feds everywhere | |
| I goThat' s why | |
| I' m paranoid, but still | |
| I choose to ignore the fact | |
| I got the flawless | |
| Acs wit gats to get that enormous stack | |
| Joey Crack, the mack without the hat | |
| And all our hoes dine and ride in the back seat of my | |
| CadillacI bet you hate it ' cuz we paid and floss, we laid and lost | |
| T. S.' ll make the baddest crews take a loss | |
| Break your like | |
| Bahondo, call me | |
| Don JoeCoke slash sweaty rock, s drop a dime dough | |
| Booked the nine o' clock, flight to | |
| AlandoSocalled killers turned snitches like | |
| RivonoThat | |
| Gauno up in | |
| MC, is bein' friendly | |
| Every time | |
| I see his wife and kids the t tempts me | |
| My heart is empty | |
| Never feelin' remorse | |
| I got a sniper one killed in the cross | |
| Ready to kill your boss | |
| Yo, you scared to death, misery need company | |
| Crab slackers, s actin' like they mad rappers | |
| Even wit a record deal, our guns still peal | |
| Break a piece of your brain, wipe the stain | |
| Throw the | |
| Range off, policeiano | |
| Watch for | |
| Hondo, they lookin' at our poster now, playin' us closer now | |
| The funds follow us, what, these es swallow us | |
| And you wonder why you can' t find us | |
| Yo, yo Jose | |
| Luis, smoke lah like the reverend | |
| Look in the skies, clouds look like coke ' n heaven | |
| Like whoever sittin' on pies two, gettin' high too | |
| Mad fly too, a thug too | |
| Yo we praise those, however you make your pesos | |
| Keep the t tight just like, | |
| Jose Canseco' s | |
| Batting stance, a majorly we glance, and gotta yell, " What, what"' | |
| Cuz thug s don' t dance yo | |
| I told s, that you did it for show | |
| But s thought you was ill yo | |
| Even your hoe, yo for real young blood | |
| I' m really afraid so | |
| Your colors got revealed and now you buy dough | |
| Imposto' s, locos, morenos, gogolos, boriquas, platino' s | |
| My s rollin' those, fontos and hydros | |
| You know how that goes, | |
| DE' s light it up though | |
| We stay smokin' it, tonelocin' it, me and | |
| Fat Joe still provoking it | |
| Yo, yo yo, you scared to death, misery need company | |
| Crab slackers, s actin' like they mad rappers | |
| Even wit a record deal, our guns still peal | |
| Break a piece of your brain, wipe the stain | |
| Throw the | |
| Range off, policeiano | |
| Watch for | |
| Hondo, they lookin' at our poster now, playin' us closer now | |
| The funds follow us, what, these es swallow us | |
| And you wonder why you can' t find us | |
| Ha ha, mad rappers | |
| Stain off, range off, watch out | |
| Policiano' s, | |
| Pabolos amigos | |
| Fat Joe, Fat | |
| Joe, Fat Joe, yeah yeah |
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