Big Pun, Fat Joe, Drag-On and Remi Martin - You Was Wrong

Uh
What?
Fat Joe
BX, nigga
Y'all don't know?

Ayo its on, I see how niggas didn't learn
You is wrong, thought the fire didn't burn
Yo, it's on, me and Pun ain't from the Bronx
You's wrong, nigga, we can get it on (yo, yo)

Ayo, guns we toss 'em, and bodies we auction
To his family we tell 'em he owed us a fortune
Gimme forty-thou', you can have yo' child, you don't know
What I had to go through, to clap this clown, check my background
The last nigga to see you bleed, the last nigga to see you breathe
The last nigga you wish you shoulda believed
And Drag move quick, blend right into a wall like a brick
The only thing you see before I blow off ya shit is my wrist
'Cause my hand, the gun is covered in
Not this range, when I pump this pistol, it's very rare I miss it
Damn near on your lips
Y'all keep talkin' like y'all Teflon with no weapons
Nigga, I'm pumpin' my four, I ain't throwin' no more
Nowadays niggas run upstairs, open they drawer
My circumstance, you ain't got that chance mines in my draw, you get it?
That's means y'all walks for two dicks, so don't be stupid
And make me use one, unless you that bitch

Ayo, it's on, you thought I was wack
You was wrong, album double plat'
Yo, it's on, stop talkin' shit
You was wrong, get off my dick

How dare you doubt or deny
Big Pun, the undoubtable?
The only rapper that'll pull out a gun
And slap the shit outta you
You can't tell me nothin
I'll clonk you and stomp out ya belly button
I'm too violent for this rap shit
I should be out somewhere killin somethin'
Too quick to blast, some niggas talk shit and dash
But I really will kick your ass
Juggernaut, I don't care if you a thug or not
I'll get Jamaican on ya ass, rudeboy, what the bombaclaat?
On your mark, get ready, run, I'm sparkin' everyone
The one get locked, stand back and watch where you from
How dare you come and try to shit where I eat?
Fuck you nigga, literally
Dick in your cheeks, you rich in the street
But I still hate y'all niggas
'Cause up north you be tossin' salads with maple syrup
I know you hate to hear it, but everybody know this one
Why you always gotta be right, nigga, why can't you ever be wrong?

Now it's on, from the Bronx where it's at
You was wrong (uh), me and Pun brought it back
Now it's on (what?), stay on with the gat
You was wrong (yo), it's the Don, Joey Crack

Who the fuck want beef with Joe Crack?
Make your body fold back
Lift his soul with the chrome Mac
I don't chat on the phone, 'cause the phone tapped
You heard there's money on the block, we control that
I got the work in the pot where that stove at
Cook it up 'til its wack, get my dough back
You niggas so wack, tryna compete
I blind you with heat, I'm the reason crime on the street
I die for my peeps, keep an open eye when I sleep
Let you slide when I coulda put five in your Jeep
Who's liver than me? I ain't know you really want it
I'm like Christ, niggas beg for they life when they see me comin'
Ain't nobody gonna stop my shine, you out yo' mind
Don't make me have to cock my nine, pop ya spine
Never did believe in the Don's
Since '92, I've been proving that you niggas was wrong

Ayo, it's on, thought I'd stay on the block
You was wrong, now Remi on the rock
So it's on, thought I wasn't gon' drop
You was wrong, I was right all along

I told these niggas, that I was the sickest bitch
And every time you spit, I'ma spit some sicker shit
Ridiculous, how Reminise blaze the track
Tight shit, make a nigga want to play ya back
I'm hatin that, but I'ma make 'em all believers
Fuck hot, I'ma come and straight drop a fever
Cop a heater, turn around and pop your leader
And for the followers, I'ma leave their heads hollower
Make your wig twisted as if I was Oliver
Layin' in a hospital, hooked up the monitors
That's for the game, y'all lames just came to first
'Cause I ain't never heard a bitch straight flame a verse
I blame the church, how God let you lie like that?
Who 'scribed you for?
'Cause you ain't never rhymed like that
So how the fuck you gon' tell me that chick is tight?
She ain't 'ight, because she don't write, you wrong (you wrong, you wrong)

Yeah, baby

Written by:
Christopher Rios, Mel Smalls, Michael Gomez, Remy Smith

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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