John Blaze Lyrics - Don Cartagena - Fat Joe

My stripes show like regiments, military intelligence 

Murder game, I leave no evidence, credentials 

Go ask my pre-school, even talk to my old principal 

He'd tell you how you I used to pack a No. 2 pencil 

Stabbin' students, grabbin' teachers, Catholics, preachers 

In the school staircase, cuttin' class, passin' my reefer 

In my own class, operation return, they tried to say 

I was incompetent, not able to learn 

The table turned now, got my own label to earn 

Like that nigga said, in dead presidents, money I burn 

Queens, pay homage, respect Nas is the vet 

Acknowledge the rep, polish baguettes, niggaz is dissin' that 

I'm just the best, puttin' all violence to rest 

Between Latin Kings, the blood los sangres, blood in Spanish 

So many thugs vanish, unite the system 

To fight with inner street wisdom, to help teach a prison 

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My crew puff lye, anyone test the Pun must die 

Just give me one try, Now you know, you done fucked up right? 

Hah, you ain't got no wins in my casa 

Que te pasa, you ain't even in my clasa 

I hate a actor that plays a rapper 

I'm Terror Squad beta kappa everybody's favorite rapper 

Grand imperial college material insane criminal 

The same nigga who known to blow out your brain mineral 

I reign subliminal inside your visual 

Try to supply your physical with my spiritual side of this lyrical 

I'll appear in your dreams, like Freddie do, no kidding you 

Even if I stuttered I would still sh-sh-sh-shit on you 

Soon as I chitter chatter, you shitter shatter, I'm the kid 

Out of Bronx, that'll stomp you to death like it didn't matter 

I'm even better than before, iller metaphors 

Killers bet it all on Pun, cause one, dead em all 

Photos 

J-J-J-John Blaze 

Ja-Ja-ah-John Bla-Blaze 

J-Ja-J-Ja, John Blaze 

Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed 

Aiyyo, my attitude is subject to change, I mess around 

And spit twelve at the driver's side door of your Range 

Six hit you, the other six, up in your dame 

Mafia style, leave you with your watch and your chains 

Take heed that, not only can I flow I can aim 

'Cause y'all misdemeanor niggaz can't stand the reign 

Better believe that, whenever I see y'all I'ma test ya 

Only cause I know that faggots respect pressure 

Hardcore, like shit you get, kicked out the yard for 

'Kiss ain't the cops, but I lock niggaz up 

You could meet me in my cell I soak and sock niggaz up 

Far as the flow go, you could let your dough show 

Put your money on the table 

We could battle on cable 

Y'all hot dog niggaz get nathans 

Fuck around with Jason, that shorty from The Lox, John Blazin' 

My son cool out 

(What) 

Don't beef yo, throw the tool out 

Let's run these niggaz, kidnap they work, make em move out 

Crushed hash, hands is like glass, keep the heat 

In the dash, did some dirt for some work, caught a gash 

The flicker blocker, wicked sneaker rocker footwear 

Strike me out God, stackin' up joints, rack em like Footlocker 

This is raw, raw like fuck kid, represent 

Here to Crenshaw, hold my words stronger than a Benz stall 

Relentless, the anthology consolidated 

With the quickness, dress up in the wig and blouse 

Killer sickness, Lex, imagination large, gold cards 

Beat the bogus squad brains that connect put on the Older God 

Specialist, iciclist, Woolridge collar 

Feelin' the rich, work for every dollar don't snitch, that's why 

Broke niggaz who got heart God, sign em up 

Start the wind up, we John Blazin', Don up in the line up 

J-J-J-John Blaze 

Ja-Ja-ah-John Bla-Blaze 

J-Ja-J-Ja, John Blaze 

Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed 

It's simple mathematics, you gotta love us 

'Cause Joey Crack plus gat equals a lotta dead motherfuckers 

Just when you thought I was done, I recruited Pun 

Terror Squad Enterprise, undisputed Dunn 

I'm from the slums where it's worse, bust with guns 'til it hurts 

For fuckin' with my funds on the first 

And go to church like a mobster 

Discuss your death over shrimp and lobster with my Cuban partners 

Lucas with the cartridge, twenty shot 

Run up on any block, disrespect any cop 

Used to run many spots, now I own shops 

Gortex with the lot, five sixty-four bills a pop 

I'm hot, who wanna get burned? 

I fire one in your knot and watch your whole fuckin' head turn 

You best learn to parlay, I've had a hard day 

Fuck around with the Don and get John Blazed 

J-J-J-John Blaze 

Ja-Ja-ah-John Bla-Blaze 

J-Ja-J-Ja, John Blaze 

Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed 

J-J-J-John Blaze 

Ja-Ja-ah-John Bla-Blaze 

J-Ja-J-Ja, John Blaze 

Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed 

SONGWRITERS 

SERMON, ERICK S. / SMITH, CLIFFORD / JONES, NASIR / WOODS, COREY / WILLIS, DAVID / NOBLE, REGGIE / CARTAGENA, JOSEPH ANTHONY / PHILLIPS, JASON / RIOS, CHRISTOPHER