[Intro - Fat Joe]
Owwwu!
Yeah! My n*ggaz! Uh-huh!
Throw ya hands in `da air right now, man!
Feel `dis sh*t right here!
Scott Storch n*gga!
Yeah Khalid, I see you, n*gga!
Show Big-Pun love! Uh!
Yeah! Uh! Yo!
[Verse 1 - Fat Joe]
I don`t give a f**k about`cha faults, or mishappenins, n*gga.
We from Da Bronx, New York... sh*t happens.
Kids clappin, luv ta spark da place.
Half da n*ggaz in `da squad got a scar on dey face.
It`s a cold world, and dis is ice.
Half a mill` for da charm, n*gga, dis is life.
Got `da Phantom in front of da buildin, Trinity Ave.
Ten years been legit, dey still figure me bad.
As a youngin, I was too much to cope with.
Why you think, mo`f**kers nick-named me "Cook Coke" sh*t.
Should`a been called Don Robbery,
Extortion, or maybe Grand Larceny.
I did it all, I put `da pieces to da puzzle.
Just as long, I knew me and my peoplez was gonna` bubble.
Came out da gate on some Flow-Joe sh*t.
Fat n*gga with da shotty was "The Logo Kid".
[Chorus]
Said my n*ggaz dont dance,
We just pull up our pants and,
Do da Roc-away.
Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back.
I said my n*ggaz don`t dance,
We just pull up our pants and,
Do `da Roc-away.
Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back.
(Come on!)
[Verse 2 - Remy]
R to the E`zzie`,
M to the whiz-zY,
My arms stay breezy,
The Don stays fizz-zY,
Got a date at 8, I'm in the 740`fizz-ive,
And I just bought a bike, so I can ride till I die,
Wit` a matchin` jacket,
Bout` to cop me a mansion,
My n*ggas in `da club, but you know `dey not dancin`.
We gANGSTA, and gangstas don`t dance- we boogie,
So nevermind how we got in here,
Wit` burners `n hoodies.
Listen, we don`t pay admission,
And da bouncers dont check us,
And we walk around `da metal detectors.
And there really aint a need for a VIP section,
In `da middle of da dance floor,
Reckless; Check it!
Said He Like my necklace, started relaxin now,
Dats what da f**k I call a chain reaction.
See, money aint a thang n*gga,
We still da same n*ggaz,
Flows just changed
Now we `bout`ta change `da game, n*gga.
[Repeat Chorus - 1X]
[Verse 3 - Fat Joe]
Now we livin` betta` now,
Gucci sweata` now.
And `dat G4 could fly through,
Any weatha` now.
See, n*ggaz get tight,
When you wurf` some millions.
`Dis is why I sport `dis chincilla;
`Ta hurt `dey feelin`s.
You can find Joe Crack at all type `a sh*t,
Out at Vegas, front row `ta all `da fights n` sh*t,
If 5-0 boy come, then they`d prod`lly squeel.
`Cause half `deez rappers did blow like Derek, fo`real.
If you cross `da line, damn right I`m gonna hurt`chu.
These faggot n*ggaz even made gang-signs commercial.
Even Lil` Bow Wow throwin` it up,
B2K crip-walkin`, like dat`s wass` up.
Kay keep tellin` me `ta speak about `Da Rucker,
Matter `fact, I don`t wanna` speak about `Da Rucker,
Not even Pee-Wee Kirkland could imagine `dis,
My n*ggaz didn`t haff`ta play`ta win the championship.
[Repeat Chorus - 1X]
[Outro - Fat Joe]
Ha! Yeah! (Can `ya hear me?!)
Bronx, BX Borough, Terror Squad, Uh... (Ha!)
Big-Pun forever, Tone Montana forever... (Can you hear me?!)
Uh! Yeah! Streetz is ours, come on!
Nah man, it ain`t never gonna stop...
Serge! Raoul! J.B., Fat Ed, come on! Uh!
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