[Intro: Fat Joe]
Yeah uh
"I bet you thought I left you hanging"
Yeah yeah yeah
"I bet you thought I left you hanging"
Terror Squad again.. long overdue baby
"I-I-I bet you thought I left you hanging"
Don Cartagena, bringing you the best in hardcore hip-hop
"J-J-Joe Crack returns banging"

[Verse 1: Fat Joe]
Yeah, uh
Yo it's the Don of rap, sipping Cognac, hit you on the back
With the MAC (Clack, clack) slip you into cardiac
It's the art of rap at the illest form
From a killer's point of view, who thrives off the area jealous ones
You could tell it's on from my introduction
Hibernate the junction with killing something when you was barely dumping
You ain't even nuttin' to worry about
I flurried your mouth, with about thirty right in front of your house
Then I'm hurrying out in the expedition, professional hit men
The vestibule shit from the credible disses
Federals is listening to my conversations, taping all the songs I'm making
Shaking down every ounce of my congregation
John Blazing, raising the stakes, changing your fate
Tied up in my basement with a gauge in your face
Make no mistake, that's how I do my thing
Blow out a lot of brains, I'm saying it's not a game
[Chorus: Prodigy of Mobb Deep (sample)] X2
Take these words home and think it through
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you
Take these words home and think it through
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you

[Verse 2: Fat Joe]
Uh uh yeah
Joe Crack taking a L and make Tone roll over in his grave, never that
T.S. shatters dreams and discourage the brave, remember that
I been busting guns since the infamous days of leather hats
Varsity sweaters with big letters black
Pushin' the illest whips down fifty-fifth
Where killers riff, without havin' to split Phillies and sniff
And Willies who shift jobs from Chili willing to leave you stiff
Fulfilling my biggest wish, in this illegal shit
Quarter Maris stay slugger with karats, never offered marriage
When my corpse is carried my mom'll get all my cabbage
Terror Squad is savage, draped in the finest of fabrics
Floss like it's a habit, eight shot up in my Louis baggage
You knew we knew we had you, lay half your crew in gravel
Caught you slipping with your boo and started shooting at you
Out of captivity left Relativity
Now we on the Bigger Beat, Terror Squad trilogy, what?

[Chorus: Prodigy of Mobb Deep (sample)] X3
Take these words home and think it through
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you
Take these words home and think it through
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you