Lyrics
Owwwwww!!! yeah! my niggaz!!! uh huh!!!
Throw your hands in the air right now man!!!
Feel this shit right here! Scott Storch nigga!
Yeah Khalid I see you nigga!!!
Show Big Pun love! Uh! Yeah! Uh! Yo!
I don’t give a fuck about your faults or mishappens nigga
We from the Bronx, New York, shit happens
Kids clappin, love to spark the place
Half the niggaz in the squad got a scar on their face
It’s a cold world and this is ice
Half a mill for the charm, nigga this is life
Got the Phantom in front of the buildin, Trinity Ave
Ten years been legit, they still figure me bad
As a young’n — was too much to cope with
Why you think — mu’fuckers nicknamed me Cook Coke shit
Shoulda been called Armed Robbery
Extortion, or maybe Grand Larceny
I did it all, I put the pieces to the puzzle
Just as long, I knew me and my peoples was 'gon bubble
Came out the gate on some Flow Joe shit
Fat nigga with the shotty was the logo kid!
Said my niggaz don’t dance we just pull up our pants
And do the rockaway, now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
I said my niggaz don’t dance we just pull up our pants
And do the rockaway, now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
(Come on!)
R to the Ezzy, M to the Yzzy
My arms stay breezy, the Don stay flizzy
Got a date at 8, I’m in the 7−4-fizzive
And I just bought a bike so I can ride till I die
With a matchin jacket, 'bout to cop me a mansion
My niggaz in the club, but you know they not dancin
We gangsta, and gangstas don’t dance with boogies
So never mind how we got in here with burners and hoodies
Listen we don’t pay admission and the bouncers don’t check us And we — walk around the metal detectors
And there really ain’t a need for a VIP section
In the middle of the dance floor reckless, check it Said he — liked my necklace, started relaxin
Now that’s what the fuck I call a chain reaction
See Money Ain’t a Thing nigga, we still the same niggaz
Flows just changed now we bout to change the game nigga
Said my niggaz don’t dance we just pull up our pants
And do the rockaway, now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
I said my niggaz don’t dance we just pull up our pants
And do the rockaway, now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
(Come on!)
Now we living better now, Coogi sweater now
And that G4 can fly through any weather now
See, niggaz get tight when you worth some millions
This is why I sport the chinchilla to hurt they feelings
You can find Joe Crack at all type of shit
Out in Vegas front row to all the fights and shit
If 5−0 boy come, then they’d proudly squeal
Cause half these rappers they +Blow+ like Derek Foreal
If you cross the line, damn right I’m 'gon hurt ya These faggot niggaz even made gang signs commercial
Even Lil’Bow Wow throwin it up B2K crip walkin like that’s what’s up!
Kay keep tellin me to speak about the Rucker
Matter of fact, I don’t wanna speak about the Rucker
Not even Pee Wee Kirkland could imagine this
My niggaz didn’t have to play to win the championship, come on!
Niggaz don’t dance we just pull up our pants
And do the rockaway, now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
I said my niggaz don’t dance we just pull up our pants
And do the rockaway, now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
(Come on!)
Ha! ha! yeah! (Can you hear me?!)
Bronx, BX borough, Terror Squad, uh (Ha!)
Big Pun forever, Tone Montana forever (Can you hear me?!)
Uh! Yeah! Streets is ours, come on!!!
Nah man, it ain’t never gon stop
Search!!! Raul!!! JB, Fat Ant come on!!! Uh!