Tap the YouTube play button above
Select or create a new playlist. Need some suggestions? Check out some cool playlists here.
My Playlists
Play History
The music never stops on bop.
Play any song. Use any music service. Share with any friend. Learn More.
Search results for Search history Start typing... No primary results for
    Play song
    Fat Joe
    Tap the YouTube play button below

    Prove Something

    • Add to playlist
    • Start radio from this song

    Song Info

    Prove Something

      About "Prove Something"

      Lyrics for Fat Joe - "Prove Something"

      East New York!! oh god!!
      Yeah, got that gangsta gangsta gully gully
      Yeah, big business, Joe Crack the don
      Terror Squad baby, BX boro, holdin down to the death
      It's nothin realer than this you heard, uh what huh

      [Verse 1]
      Its like I'm always out to prove somethin
      Everytime I stop on the block
      I set up shop and try to move somethin
      And I'm talkin about kilo's and pounds
      Fuck a desert eagle
      I got shit that spit over 300 rounds
      Can tell by the scar on my neck
      I spar with the best
      Joey boombay-ay, hit hard with the left
      Sharp with the right, I don't know why I bother
      Y'all not retarded
      Man ya know what the squadron is like
      And he can get it too
      But I let him die slow death I probably just collectin his food
      I'm deadin ya crew
      To tell ya the truth we not stoppin
      I'm like lil' lease from be -street man I keep poppin
      The streets knockin my shit, the d's watchin my shift
      We can do this however, east glock or the fifth
      I leave you chumps to frame, right where you standin
      Daughter slaughtered and maimed you should have paid the ransom

      [chorus x2]
      Its the T E are are O are squad, nigga get it right
      Its the nigga joe the don
      And the kid flow hard, ask the clique
      Niggas be like you crazy, he got classic shit

      [Verse 2]
      Its the killa kid from the bronx
      Holdin down to the death
      You can hear the squad comin
      By the sound of the techs
      A hundred rounds in a sec
      Leave you on front page
      You would think I was down with the ROC
      The way I just blazed
      I puff haze to keep my mind at ease
      Can't wait for the day to see shyne released
      This hip hop shit is unjust, who you gon' trust
      When most of these record label execs is dumb fucks
      I keep a gun tuck under my belly
      Only nigga on the island makin calls from the celly
      We watchin belly on the DV, 60 inch TV
      Flat shit attatch to the back of the CP
      This game need me, I'm like gotti once I'm gone
      All you gonna have left is a bunch of fake dons
      Champagne with the women, run a game for the puddin
      Its all the same, still runnin trains with my hoodmen
      A bunch of goodmen, but don't get it confused
      We like dinero in heat nigga, nothin to loose
      I know you seen the shoot out scene
      Don't make us reneact, 'cause I rather be laid up in ?? with a featured actress

      [chorus x2]

      Its the T E are are O are squad, nigga get it right
      Its the nigga joe the don
      And the kid flow hard, ask the clique
      Niggas be like you crazy, he got classic shit

      Yea, hell yea, uh brought to you by the realest motherfuckers in this game
      The infamous terror squad, yea, real niggas, real dons
      Real G's haha, come on, woo uh
      Ton' Montana rest in peace forever, never forget.. Big Pun!

      Powered and licensed by LyricFind

      Select a Service


      Open In

      Xbox Music


      Google Play

      Select a Store

      Google Play


      ‹ Back
      Feedback? Chat with us!
      Sign Out
      My playlists
      (Hit return to send)

      Submit Song Description

      Submit Please enter a description.
      Thank You! Our administrators will review your description.
      I'm sorry an error has occurred. Please try again later.