FAT JOE


Yellow Tape Lyrics

Attention please, attention please
This feel like the whole entire world collapse

This that yellow tape shit, they keep running out of it
We just sold like 8 bricks, we ain’t running out of it
This our f*cking hood bitch, wind your ass up out of it
This gun come with 8 clips, shoot til I run out of it

Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
I got it, I got it

This that yellow tape shit, me I’m bout to go ape shit
Got 8 chicks on 8mollies and they about to take 8 trips
Dice game, 8 tricks, got a use to rocking from jay
prince
She get it popping, I’mma send her shopping
And that ain’t even my main bitch
I’m a vicious, live action, smoking joe, I’m
highjacking
Working though, have my dough, I be there
Fly Jackson, sin city, KOD, hunned thousand, all in
once
Versace jacket, Versace shoes, Versace shades, I got a
thousand suns
Mama you the shit I bet you cogno
Why you f*ckin with him? Even his car broke
We rockin bout manes step to the cargos
Your bitch so thirsty cuz she a mogul

This that yellow tape shit, they keep running out of it
We just sold like 8 bricks, we ain’t running out of it
This our f*cking hood bitch, wind your ass up out of it
This gun come with 8 clips, shoot til I run out of it

Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
I got it, I got it

Call me Joey, I’m a badass, Harlem world like Baghdad
Come do with a black flag, these are plain things to
have cat
Bitch is on her payday, f*ck her with her fat ass
I get gets, my dick licked, my brain too has shot a
trap
What the f*ck you mean? I been sipping clean, sipping
lean
Alexandra Wang that’s the f*cking jeans, driffle bean When I serve the things, Gucci with the beam, try but
scream
Leave a nigga dead, f*cking with the team, magazine
Choo-choo that train go
Drink slow, my chain go
Soo woop where your true blue, don’t get your flock,
illa take it off
8 bricks you could’ve shaved off
Mean ho, Lino
Range Rove with a bang bro
I shoot you and change clothes

This that yellow tape shit, they keep running out of it
We just sold like 8 bricks, we ain’t running out of it
This our f*cking hood bitch, wind your ass up out of it
This gun come with 8 clips, shoot til I run out of it

Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
I got it, I got it

Montana!

You know we rolled in with the choppers by the hunder
boy
When you talk about that work you niggas unemployed
White work I got it, brown work I got it
2 chains, show your titties ho, damn right I got it
Just copped about 8 bricks
Just copped about 8 whips
Cop work for the same mit
Your ho stash like 9 knicks
Smoked out oit Ki but quiet let that mommie puff
Get that brown bag and I skate off like I’m Tony Hawk
Bitch drop my cock back, your bitch look I slide that
To the southern Bronx and I pop that
She call you for that ride back
South Bronx we got it, joe crack we got it
Black cock, no limit ho
Now I’m right, we bout to poke

This that yellow tape shit, they keep running out of it
We just sold like 8 bricks, we ain’t running out of it
This our f*cking hood bitch, wind your ass up out of it
This gun come with 8 clips, shoot til I run out of it

Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
Work, work, work, I got it
I got it, I got it

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these lyrics are submitted by kaan
Songwriter(s): Joseph Cartagena, William Lewis, Karim Kharbouch, Ray Illya Fraser, raj, Rakim Mayers, Dwayne Carter, David Porter, Shandel Green, Rojean O'neal, Rojean O'neil Lloyd Gray, Isaac Hayes, Karmin Kharbouch

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