Artist: Fat Joe f/ Pooh Bear Album: The Elephant in the Room Song: Preacher on a Sunday Morning Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Intro: Fat Joe] Coca, Krillz-mania Get used to this one, CRACK~! Scotty! Oh yeah I'm back on that shit And I say right about now New York City AOWWWW [Fat Joe They say it's life or death, there's no future frontin I say a Mac and a Tec could keep them dudes from comin Coca, Joseph A. Cartagegna Nice with the hands, better with the banger Guns I'm no stranger; keep an AK When I die they'll probably throw a fake nigga parade I'm knowin! But who gives a fuck, I don't care Don't lead them let the welfare feed 'em Niggaz had me thinking that Joey is fucked up Skitles with the Maybachs, Phantom rooftop Life sucks for you maybe the Jews crazy Interstate pieces to death thanks to Whoo, baby [Chorus: Pooh Bear] I stay cleaner than a preacher on a Sunday mornin I got cake but I need more ice and ballin I'll stay, the orchestrator of my symphony Niggaz want my sympathy, percent of preacher remedy Still cleaner than a preacher on a Sunday mornin Yeahhhhh [Fat Joe] And I say right about now Yeah, yo King of New York, King of New York But we don't ever see these niggaz up in New York Can anybody tell me where San Tropei? All these so called killers try their best to dress gay Everybody beefin it's the same all day All these mixtape rappers now want to claim king Everybody sayin they bringin New York back But we the only niggaz y'all pitch back to back, Crack! Ki-ki, ka-crack crack, you hear the echo Son of Ernesto, I'll let the Tec blow You should fear us, got plenty like pistol Fuck a phone call, I barely gotta whistle NIG-GA [Chorus] [Fat Joe] Yeah, yo, yo Coca, there's no one harder Get off your knees get a job at the Carter Throw a bake sale, invite your friends You guaranteed to see a couple of ends See I've been gettin money since who knows when These other niggaz is all pretend You've been bamboozled, these dudes is fake thugs Live at Madison Square they givin group hugs Now let me take you through the streets of darkness Where I keep your favorite emcee underneath my armpit The Bronx kid, I'm only speaking the truth, shit Look what these streets made Kollage and them do "A Bronx Tale"... and I say right about now New York City It's the corner block hugger, Coca, Crack Fuck got a name like Crack nigga? If you don't know it's multi-millions here Real nigga shit here CRACK!! [Chorus - over last 6 lines from Fat Joe]