Carribean Connection Lyrics

Carribean Connection lyrics

Featuring Wyclef Jean]  

 [Wyclef] Warning!  

 [Big Pun]  

 Yo, wanna rumble with Pun hah?  

 *loud farting noise* Shit on the whole industry  

 Yo who puff more Owls than Pun? Pile on more styles than Pun?  

 Who the only one with over a thousand guns?  

 Runnin up in niggaz cribs like I paid the bill  

 Make you squeal the combination to the safe for wealth  

 I lace your grill with the firestarter  

 Hit your wife with the ? from the ?shower powers I devour?  

 I'm all about the fundamentals, like Pun and pencil  

 A piece of paper, a decent caper and someone to strafe you  

 My mental's compatible with the radicals  

 My oddessey type, qualities allow me to poli' with animals  

 Niggaz is canibals and the ghetto's a jungle  

 where you either bet all your bundles or struggle on the simple and  

 humble  

 My niggaz'll rumble with any man for a Benny Fran  

 Try to imagine what they can sacrifice for twenty grand  

 Niggaz'll slice you and dice you into a thousand pieces  

 and pound out we jettin to the ground Uptown  

 up in the Boogie Down, ? swallow the team, pile on the green  

 Surrounded in green like flowers in Spring  

 For now I'm a King, so it's more than money, all the honies  

 used to call me Punny cause my fam was always hungry  

 But now we rollin lovely, and you feel worse, want my money  

 Let your steel burst, cause I'd rather see you in hell first  

 Chorus: Wyclef and Pun  

 *Wyclef sings something*  

 [Pun] I'm selling perrico  

 [Clef] Yo what's the deally yo?  

 [Pun] I'm Uptown making moves just like Castro  

 (repeat all 2X)  

 [Wyclef Jean]  

 Yo, yo, yo keep the lights keep the camera all I want is the action  

 The battle's on, where I roam in composition  

 A hardcore crowd, waitin to see, if I break  

 like your first time in jail when you got fucked by an inmate  

 It'll never happen, I'm on balance like a Libra  

 And if I get murdered, Don't Cry For Me Argentina  

 Pour me a cup of vodka, bury me next to my father  

 In three days, I rise like Christ and still sober  

 Now my eyes open, in my hands I got the Gatling  

 I'm looking for the guy that sent me to say hi to Satan  

 Fists of fury, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry  

 I turn Mr. Rogers Neighborhood topsy turvy  

 Foes and enemies meaning the same in the dictionary  

 This ain't Pictionary, all you see is the cemetary  

 Bodies, from World War I and II is there  

 You don't want a third war, that's nuclear warfare  

 So Big Pun, count the stacks, make it fast  

 Illegal money turns legal now we runnin a laundromat  

 Your hunchbacked and wack rap is packed in your backpack  

 Your better off in D.C. with the mayor smoking crack  

 Yo, this ain't a diss, Wyclef bomb threat  

 Run out of the building or get blast in your Guess  

 Tec for Tec, or we can go text for text, oh  

 I forgot, you don't read, so take this hole in your chest - blaow  

 Hide the blood, give you the gun, run and hide  

 So when the DT shows up, he thought it was a suicide  

 Suicide it's a suicide...  

 Chorus (fades out