Ow
Yeah, my niggas, aha-haThrow your hands in the air right now, manFeel this shit right here, Scott Storch, niggaYeah, Khaled, I see you nigga, ShowBiz, Born LordUh, yeah, uh, yo
I don’t give a fuck about your faults or mishappensNigga, we from the Bronx, New York, shit happensKids clappin’, love to spark the placeHalf the niggas in the Squad got a scar on their faceIt’s a cold world and this is iceHalf a mil’ for the charm, nigga, this is lifeGot the Phantom in front of the building, Trinity AveTen years been legit, they still figure me badAs a youngin, was too much to cope withWhy you think, motherfuckers nicknamed me Cook Coke shit?Should’ve been called Armed RobberyExtortion, or maybe Grand LarcenyI did it all, I put the pieces to the puzzleJust as long, I knew me and my peoples was gon’ bubbleCame out the gate on some Flo-Jo shitFat nigga with the shotty was the logo, kid
I said my niggas don’t danceWe just pull up our pantsAnd do the Rockaway (throw your drinks in the air, can you hear me?)Now lean back, lean back (you feelin’ nice as fuck, throw your hands in the air)Lean back, lean back (come on)I said my niggas don’t danceWe just pull up our pants and do the Rockaway (woo, uh, come on, can you hear me?)Now lean back, lean back (uh-huh, that’s right)Lean back, lean back (uh-huh, come on, yeah)
R to the E-zy, M to the wizz-YMy arms stay breezy, the Don stay flizzyGot a date at 8, I’m in the 7-4-fizziveAnd I just bought a bike so I can ride ’til I dieWith a matchin’ jacket, ’bout to cop me a mansionMy niggas in the club, but you know they not dancin’We gangsta, and gangstas don’t dance, we boogieSo never mind how we got in here with burners and hoodiesListen, we don’t pay admission and the bouncers don’t check usAnd we walk around the metal detectorsAnd there really ain’t a need for a V.I.P. sectionIn the middle of the dance floor reckless, check itSaid he liked my necklace, started relaxin’Now that’s what the fuck I call a chain reactionSee, money ain’t a thang, nigga, we still the same niggasFlows just changed, now we ’bout to change the game, nigga
I said my niggas don’t danceWe just pull up our pantsAnd do the Rockaway (throw your drinks in the air, can you hear me?)Now lean back, lean back (you feelin’ nice as fuck, throw your hands in the air)Lean back, lean back (come on)I said my niggas don’t danceWe just pull up our pants and do the Rockaway (woo, uh, come on, can you hear me?)Now lean back, lean back (uh-huh, that’s right)Lean back, lean back (uh-huh, come on)
Now we living better now, Coogi sweater nowAnd that G4 can fly through any weather nowSee, niggas get tight when you worth some millionsThis is why I sport the chinchilla, to hurt they feelingsYou can find Joe Crack at all type of shitOut in Vegas front row to all the fights and shitIf 5-0 boy come then they’d proudly squeal‘Cause half these rappers they blow like Derek ForealIf you cross the line, damn right, I’m gon’ hurt youThese faggot niggas even made gang signs commercialEven Lil’ Bow Wow throwin’ it upB2K Crip walkin’ like, “That’s what’s up!”Kay keep tellin’ me to speak about the RuckerMatter of fact, I don’t wanna speak about the RuckerNot even Pee Wee Kirkland could imagine thisMy niggas didn’t have to play to win the championship
Niggas don’t danceWe just pull up our pantsAnd do the Rockaway (throw your drinks in the air, can you hear me?)Now lean back, lean back (you feelin’ nice as fuck, throw your hands in the air)Lean back, lean back (come on)I said my niggas don’t danceWe just pull up our pants and do the Rockaway (woo, uh, come on, can you hear me?)Now lean back, lean back (uh-huh, that’s right)Lean back, lean back (uh-huh, come on)
Yeah (can you hear me?)Bronx, BX borough, Terror Squad, uhBig Pun forever, Tone Montana forever, uh (can you hear me?)Yeah, streets is ours, come onNah, man, it ain’t never gon’ stopSerge, Raul, JB Fat, ayy, come on
