You Was Wrong lyrics

[Intro: Drag-On]
What!
BX, n*gga
Y'all don't know?

[Hook: Drag-On]
Ayo, its on – I see y'all n*ggas didn't learn
You was wrong – thought the fire didn't burn
Yo, it's on – me and Pun ain't from the Bronx?!
You was wrong – n*gga, we can get it on

[Verse 1: Drag-On]
Ayyo, guns we toss 'em, and bodies we auction
To his family, we tell 'em he owed us a fortune
"Gimme forty-thou', you can have your child
You don't know what I had to go through to clap this clown"
Check my background, the last n*gga to see you bleed
The last n*gga to see you breathe
The last n*gga you wish you shoulda believed
And Drag move quick, blend right in the wall like a brick
The only thing you see before I blow off ya sh*t is my wrist
'Cause my hand, the gun is coverin' it, and at this range
When I pump this pistol, it's very rare I miss, it's damn near on your lips
Y'all keep talkin' like y'all Teflon with no weap-ons
"n*gga, I'm pumpin' my Ford, I ain't thumpin' no more!"
Nowadays, n*ggas run upstairs, open they drawer
My circ*mstance, you ain't got that chance, mines in my draw
You get it?
That means I walks with two di*ks, so don't be stupid
And make me use one, unless you my b*tch
[Hook: Big Pun]
Ayo, it's on – you thought I was wack?
You was wrong – album double Plat
Yo, it's on – stop talkin' sh*t
You was wrong – get off my di*k

[Verse 2: Big Pun]
How dare you doubt or deny Big Pun, the undoubtable
The only rapper that'll pull out a gun and slap the sh*t outta you
You can't tell me nothing, I'll clonk you and stomp out ya belly button
I'm too violent for this rap sh*t, I should be out somewhere killin' somethin'
Quick to blast, ya'll n*ggas talk sh*t and dash
But I really will kick your ass
Juggernaut – I don't care if you a thug or not
I'll get Jamaican on ya ass, rude boy, "what the bomboclaat?"
On your mark, get ready, run – I'm sparkin' everyone
Don't wanna get locked? Stand back and watch, where you from?
How dare you come and try to sh*t where I eat
f*ck you, n*gga, literally – di*k in your cheeks
You rich in the street, but I still hate ya'll n*ggas
Because up North, you be tossin' salads with maple syrup
I know you hate to hear it, but everybody know this one:
"Why you always gotta be right, n*gga?
Why can't you ever be wrong?"

[Hook: Fat Joe]
Now it's on – from the Bronx, where it's at!
You was wrong – me and Pun brought it back!
Now it's on – stay on with the gat!
You was wrong – it's the Don, Joey Crack!
[Verse 3: Fat Joe]
Who the f*ck want beef with Joe Crack?
Make your body fold back, lift his soul with the chrome MAC
I don't chat on the phone, 'cause the phone tapped
You heard there's money on the block? We control that
I got the work in the pot, where the stove at?
Cook it up 'till it's rock, get my dough back
You n*ggas so wack, trying to compete
I blind you with heat, I'm the reason crime on the streets
I die for my peeps, keep an open eye when I sleep
Let you slide, when I coulda put five in your Jeep
Who's liver than me?
I ain't know you really want it
I'm like Christ, n*ggas beg for they life when they see me comin'
Ain't nobody gonna stop my shine, you out your mind
Don't make me have to c*ck my nine, pop ya spine
Never did believe in the Don
Since '92, I've been proving that y'all n*ggas was wrong

[Hook: Remy Martin]
Ayo, it's on – thought I'd stay on the block?
You was wrong – now I'm Remy on the rock
So it's on – thought I wasn't gonna drop?
You was wrong – I was right all along

[Verse 4: Remy Martin]
I told these n*ggas that I was the sickest b*tch
And every time you spit, I'ma spit some sicker sh*t
Ridiculous, I reminisce, blaze the track
Type of sh*t make a n*gga wanna play it back
Y'all hatin' that – but I'ma make 'em all believers
f*ck hot, I'ma come and straight drop a fever
Cop a heater, turn around and pop ya leader
And for the followers, I'ma leave their heads hollower
Make your wig twist, as if I was Oliver
Layin' in a hospital, hooked up to monitors
As for the game, y'all lames just can't be first
'Cause I ain't never heard a b*tch straight flame a verse
I blame the church, how God let you lie like that?
Who scribed for you? 'Cause you ain't never rhymed like that
So how the f*ck you gon' tell me that chick is tight?!
She ain't aight, 'cause she don't write – you wrong
[Outro: Big Pun]
Yeeeah, baby!