(feat. Fat Joe)



[Intro]

[scratching samples]


[Verse One: B-Real]


Sipping on tequila, with Sheila, no doubt I'm bringing her on
Keeping her warm, leaving her heated like Tiger Balm
In the hot sun city of Mexico, it's a pity

My committee of [edited] with me to get gritty
Rhyme [edited] on the track, snappin' your head back
Get the medic, cause a victim from [edited] Joey Crack

Stomping the wax [edited] spittin' on wax
Giving the facts, beginners lack the methods of kicking wicked records
A second of time switch, as styles piles up

[edited] of various flows to rile up
So what you wanna do? Tequila sunrise [edited]
Coming to town with my bigger boogie down figga

It's the lies, [edited] do you think you can survive it?
When you decide it, leave it to me and Joe can provide it
Cracking open the golden, holdin' the bomb load

While records are selling singles, my albums are getting sold
Kicking the universal, never commercial techniques
Banging the clubs, banging the jeeps

Banging the streets

[Chorus]


Tequila Sunrise, bloodshot eyes
Realize we're all born to die

So get the money, money...
[x4]


[Verse Two: Fat Joe]

Now I'm back for the new year, yeah I volunteer

Sources pioneer, millionaire status here
I never had no fear sellin' records
I resurrected on my third, that's my word, it's a high selection

And everybody know standing near me,
I'm dangerous like Shannon Greary
Making the whole planet hear me

You feel me? I'm on my road to the riches
Where hoes and [edited] fulfilling my goals and my wishes
My flows is vicious, but showin' *edited* since the early 90's

Where Onyx at? [edited] rockin' both easy *edited* 'round a grammy
Don't mind me, I just call 'em how I see 'em
Most these rappers is actors living off per diem

Me? I'm on my own [edited], nothing but gold hits
Claimin' the with throne with my 'thuggish, ruggish Bone' click
On the phone-flip, talking to B

He scooped me up in the six, we 'bout to hit overseas, what!

[Chorus]


[Outro]
[each overlapping the other]


[B-Real:]
That's right, we hitting you with the L.A./Bronx connection

Soul $$#assins, Terror Squad family
All up in your dome... ha!
That's right, Soul $$#assins style, Cypress Hill IV

Knocking on your door for the ninety-eight
That's right, eat the worm...


[Fat Joe:]
Yeah... Terror Squad, Soul $$#assins
B-Real, Joey Crack... wha-wha-wha-what!

Ugh! Puttin' it down, ^!$$%
East coast, West coast
And it's all the same, hahahaha... yeah, yeah