Caribbean Connection

Lyrics

[Intro: Wyclef Jean] Warning! [Verse 1: Big Pun] Yo, wanna rumble with the Pun, huh? {*blows raspberry*} 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? Running up in niggas' 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 sawed off In the shower, power-drive ya daughter 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 odyssey type qualities allow me to poli' with animals Niggas is cannibals and the ghetto's the jungle Where you either bet all your bundles Or struggle or live civil and humble My niggas'll rumble with any man for a Benny Fran' Try to imagine what they can fathom for twenty grand Niggas'll slice you and dice you into a thousand pieces We pound out weak shit into the ground Uptown Up in the Boogie Down, just wilding in jean Pile on the green, surrounded in green like flowers in Spring But now I'm a King, so it's more than money All the honeys used to call me Punny 'Cause my fam was always hungry But now we rolling lovely and you feel worse Want my money? Let your steel burst 'Cause I'd rather see you in Hell first [Chorus: Wyclef Jean and Big Pun] Mucho trabajo, poquito dinero I'm selling perico Yo, what's the deally, yo? I'm Uptown making moves just like Castro Mucho trabajo (Yo yo yo), poquito dinero I'm selling perico Yo, what's the deally, yo? Huh, I'm Uptown making moves just like Castro [Verse 2: 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 waiting 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'll 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. Roger's Neighborhood topsy turvy Foes and enemies meaning the same in the dictionary This ain't Pictionary, all you see is the cemetery 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 running a laundromat Your hunchbacked and wack rap is packed in your backpack You're 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: Wyclef Jean and Big Pun] Mucho trabajo, poquito dinero I'm selling perico Yo, what's the deally, yo? Uh, I'm Uptown making moves just like Castro Mucho trabajo, poquito dinero I'm selling perico Yo, what's the deally, yo? Uh, I'm Uptown making moves just like Castro Mucho trabajo, poquito dinero