Turn that motherfucker louder
Its the Roc in this motherfucker
Bi-otch!
Oh yeah, bounce, uh uhbounce
Yeah, yeah bounce, come on
Oh come on bounce, come on
Do my ladies run this motherfucker?
(Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker?
(Yeah, yeah, come on)
Do my ladies run it
Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air
If its the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it
Let em know that youre still gunnin
Throw a drink in the air
Let em know you still thuggin
Yo I come through, few of my mans
Scoop you and your friends
You, you, and you with the Timbs
In tight jeans, Chinese eyes
Indian hair, Black girl ass
Let me pour you a glass of Belvi
Tell me all about your past
Let me console your soul
While I palm your ass
And your man did what?
He aint give you?
He cheated with her
I cant diss duke
I tell you this though
Get with this dude
Ill teach you about dough
And show you what this do
(Its a secret society, all we ask is trust)
But I dont freeze bitches
Just skeeze bitches
Break up happy homes
Just seize misses
Youll never get her back once you get a yacht
How you love that?
How you love that?
Do my ladies run this motherfucker?
(Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker?
(Yeah, yeah, come on)
Do my ladies run it
Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air
If its the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it
Let em know that youre still gunnin
Throw a drink in the air
Let em know you still thuggin
Ay yo back woods rollin
Rap you cant hold em
ROC gear matchin crews
Bleek is chillin, Murda is chillin
What more can I say?
We still killin em
Bags we still dealin em
Four wheels, we wheelin them
Chicks like Im feelin him
Yeah ma okay
Black jeans and Timberlands
Give them adrenaline rush
Ladies know the difference between them niggas and us
We the R-O-C and we dont stop
They dont make a gun that we dont pop
Matter fact they dont make a car that we dont drop
Thought you knew they dont make jewels that we dont cop
What you knew? You actin like the ROC aint hot
Or the car that I cop aint missin a top
And even if they dont make drops that kind
I tear da roof off like Im Busta Rhymes motherfucker
Do my ladies run this motherfucker?
(Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker?
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Come on, come on
Do my ladies run it
Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air
If its the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it
Let em know that youre still gunnin
Throw a drink in the air
Let em know you still thuggin
Do my ladies run this motherfucker?
(Okay)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker?
(Uh-huh, okay, uh-huh)
Come on, come on
Its the R-O-C, we dont stop
Its the R-O-C, we dont stop
Its the R-O-C, we dont stop
Uh Memp Bleek, The Understanding niggas
Get your mind right, ha-ha
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