作詞：SCOTT STORCH/JOSEPH CARTAGENA/Remy
作曲：SCOTT STORCH/JOSEPH CARTAGENA/Remy
Owwwu! Yeah! My niggaz! Uh-huh! Throw ya hands in 'da air right now, man! Feel 'dis 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 'bout your fault or mishappenin's nigga. We from the Bronx, New York thing happens Kids clappin' luv ta spark the place Half the on the Squad got a scar on they face It's a cold world, and this is ice half a mil' for the charm, this is life Got the phantom in front of the building Trinity Ave 10 years been legit they still figure me bad As a youngin', was too much to cope with Why you think, mo'fuckers nick-named me "Cook Coke" shit. 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 shit. Fat nigga with da shotty was "The Logo Kid". Said my niggaz don't dance, We just pull up our pants and, Do da Roc-away. Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back. I said my niggaz 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!) are 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 7-4 'fizz-I've, And I just bought a bike, so I can ride till I die, Wit' a matchin' jacket, Bout' to cop me a mansion, My niggas 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 don't check us, And we walk around 'da metal detectors. And there really ain't 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 fuck I call a chain reaction. See, money ain't a thang nigga, We still da same niggaz, Flows just changed Now we 'bout'ta change 'da game, nigga. I said my niggas 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 niggas 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 livin' betta' now, Gucci sweata' now. And 'dat G4 could fly through, Any weatha' now. See, niggaz get tight, When you wurf' some millions. This is why I sport the chincilla; to hurt they feelin's. You can find Joe Crack at all type 'a shit, Out at Vegas, front row 'ta all 'da fights n' shit, 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 niggaz even made gang-signs commercial. Even Lil' Bow Wow throwin' it up, B2K crip-walkin', like dat's was' up. Kay keep tellin' me 'ta speak about 'Da Rucker, Matter 'fact, I don't want to' speak about 'Da Rucker, Not even Pee-Wee Kirkland could imagine 'dis, My niggaz didn't haff'ta play'ta win the championship. niggas don't dance We just pull up our pants And do the rockaway Now lean back, lean back Lean back, lean back (Come on!) I said, my niggas 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! Yeah! (Can 'ya hear me?!) Bronx, BX Borough, Terror Squad, Uh... (Ha!) Big-Punk 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!