Coca, muah
Elephant in the Room
Crills, uh

Early in the mornin', could barely feel my face
Cuttin that raw raw, hammer on my waist
My baby mama stressin', I'm like fuck, get out of my face
Feds on my ass now, 'bout to catch a case
I'm about that makin' money, I'm allergic to poor
Shit, I done made some whores out of the girls next door
6 in the mornin' when they kick in the door
I'm probably outside the forge gettin' brain in the Porsche
What Porsche? My Porsche, yeah, the GT Porsche
Of course I floss like them DC boys
Shit, right at Club Love I fucked at least three broads
In the middle of the dance floor, such a sleazy whore
Now, headed for paradise
Carlos Bengante, jazz in the background, Harry Belofante
Seagull in the clouds, look, honey, I'm comin'
Different strokes, different folks, you guessed it, Phillip Drummons
Now I'ma fuck the pussy 'til the pussy get numb and
Roll over naked then we kush kush puffin'
This is way too easy though, I am the magnifico
Cube at his prime, but I'm much more like Eazy though
If you don't believe me you can see me on your TV, yo
Tailor made Versace, I'm with Khaled on that speedy boat
Comes to Latino MC's there's none bigger
Now who's gonna tell me that I can't say nigga?
Nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, bitch, ho
'Cause some chicks is bitches, some chicks is hoes
Some independent ladies, yeah, they make a lotta doe
So they get nothin' but love and respect from Fat Joe
I remember when I stepped in the game, yo
Army fatigue with Greg Nice, that flow Joe
You gotta flow, Joe, you gotta flow, Joe
You gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta let 'em know, Joe
You gotta flow, Joe, you gotta flow, Joe
You gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta let 'em know
I'm Boricua 'til I die, motherfuckers, yes, I will detach you
I'll leave holes you can't cover with tattoos
All you lame souls keep prayin' to them statues
When I'm the ghetto God, I'll bless you, achoo
The one spitter they can't get rid of
Major label dropped me, what I do? I got richer
80s babies era on the corner, I'm a pitcher
Got a new connect and what I do? I got richer
Scibbidibat-dawop-bamboo
Guess what? America, we love you, uh-huh
And I'ma stay reppin' that TS crew
And show y'all motherfuckers how the BX do
Shit, every time I rock, well, it's more like a zoo
Lines wrapped around the corner, if you too late, you blew
In that new white Phantom, call it milk on wheels
Niggas wyilin' like Joe just OD'd off pills
I OD'd off crills, I OD'd off mills
You monopoly guys, collect no bills
Shit, niggas keep askin, "How come he so real?"
6'1", light skin, got them green eyes, chill, (haha)

It's the fugitive (yes)
Coca
I'm on the run (woo)
And I'm eatin' bitch (haha)
Streetrunner on this one, bitch (yes)
We'd like to welcome you, "Elephant in the Room" (uh-huh, thank you, thank you)
Bitch, yeah)
Top of my game right now, can't nobody see me, man (talk yo' shit)
We use different forms of transportation, nigga
I'm on different planets than y'all niggas right now
You can deny it all you want, nigga
Coca's spittin that shit, the streets is mine
Oh, I'll get on some Pun shit
What you want? that hardcore, commercial shit?
What you wanna dance? Crills mania, nigga
BX, TS
I owns this shit

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): George Kerr, Jerry Harris, Joseph Anthony Cartagena, Nicholas Warwar