Fat Joe - Rock Ya Body lyrics
Fat Joe [Joseph Antonio Cartagena] The Bronx, New York City, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Fat Joe - Rock Ya Body lyrics]
I was the one who believed in you!
Ha ha haha
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
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
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 niggas Cool & Dre
On this monster track
(What they do Fat?) yeah we
Been on some Don shit
Been stompin niggas unconcious
Been sendin niggas 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'mma 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
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
Niggas 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
Niggas takin shots at me
Find yourself hangin from your
Feet off the balcony