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Текст (слова) песни: Fat Joe - Rock Ya Body

[Fat Joe]
Aowwwwwwwwww! Cool & Dre
I was the one who believed in you!
Hahahaha

[Chorus]
I got one bad chick, she by my side
About two more wait-in outside
Pull out the red carpet walk past the line
Pass the keys, tell `em please valet my ride
And just - rock ya body body, rock ya body body
Rock, ya body body, rock ya body
Just rock - who the fuck you know like Cook?
Kill a nigga on a verse, make `em dance on a hook, nowwww

[Fat Joe]
Joey see/C-Murder like five-oh-fo`
Better have my money cause I knock on do`s
Better yet I leave 17 peepholes, squeeze with the eagle
Bet I murder like five-oh-fo` - Crack, yes!
You gon` need protection
This dude mad nice with the Smith & Wessun
You know, automatic, stick shift revolver
Find me in the attic, long dist` the target
After that, do the walk-through like phone booths
What`chu gon` do when them dudes run up on you and
rock ya body body, catch somebody
Gon` park, the black Denali, watch his body
just DROP - yeah I`m street like that
Pull off the Benny Blanco, yeah it beez like that
Your whole crew boomerang, they ain`t G`s like that
Cause when it`s time to shoot they quick to point the heat right back
Nigga

[Chorus]

[Fat Joe]
Yo, if Suge rapped how hard would it be
But he don`t, so the closest thing you got is me
Ain`t no damn near a rapper this loc` as me
Cook Coke on top is how it`s `sposed to be, nigga!
Yeah the Bronx is back
It`s my niggaz Cool & Dre on this monster track
(What they do Fat?) Yeah we been on some Don shit
Been stompin niggaz unconcious
Been sendin niggaz to trauma; I bet now you wish
the only beef that you had is wit`cha baby`s momma
You best to wear your vest as a doo-rag
Cause I`ma headbussa, you don`t want me to do dat
Yeah I need a new muh`fucker to shoot at
More Bin Laden talk, disappearin like Pookie from "New Jack"
Said it, yeah it`s all out war
So do your jumpin jacks nigga, make you hit the floor

[Chorus]

[Fat Joe]
Yes, please believe she gorgeous
And she ain`t gon` leave once she see the fortress
The blood red G-T`ll leave ya nauseous
And as for the wife, mami please, we`re bosses
Crenshaw, you can find me on the strip
Black Ferrari, nine milli` on the hip
You in South Beach, wet willies on the strip
Shit, I`m in Dade County, smokin phillies, bumpin Trick nigga
New York y`all know what it is!
Got a hundred guns, got a hundred clips
Niggaz never listen `til they vision turn bitch
Pawn you out of Vegas butt-naked in a ditch
(That`s right) By now you can see that I`m global
Slappin MC`s for the dreams that they sold you
And all the false prophecies of niggaz takin shots at me
Find yourself hangin from your feet off the balcony

[Chorus]

 

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