Freeway, Young Chris, Neef Buck, Memphis Bleek, Peedi Crakk - Roc Reunion lyrics

Guess who's back, motherfuckers?!
Out with the old, in with the new
So, just when I thought I was out
They pull me back in!
It's the Roc, you bastards!
Let's take it back to the street
(Benji style, Benji style, Benji style)
Look at these fuckin' guys
They're not hungry anymore they're sloppy
The way they think, the way they move
Remember me, man?
Pain In Da Ass from the Roc?
Okay, we're reloaded! Freeway!

Best spitter, rapper - I'm a bitter animal
Rock icy charms, bear arms that's mechanical
Burnt down booths, burnt beats
They all flammable
It's the return of the Roc, bitch
The Loch Ness Monster of rap
Still here after a decade (I'm here)
You sick of all this bullshit
Rap? Here's your antidote
Flame things, we the A Team, no Hannibal
Jay-Z my nigga, kill a nigga over camel jokes
Bitch, you say it's a Ace of Spades
I'll break your legs
Hit you with the sawed-off, gettin' ate
You'll make the news
I'm willin' to break out the
Uz to get the pay
And wake up on these niggas to make my day
And make 'em move right to the East
And I represent for the East Coast
If we go to work, I got44s in each holster
Furthermore, the44 revolver'll put
You under more you dyke bitches one-sided
This ain't no tug of war naw!

(You gotta look at a guy's eyes next to you)
(You're gonna see a guy
Who's willing to sacrifice
His life for the good of this squad)
(That's what loyalty's about –
That's what Roc-A-Fella's about)
(That's all it's ever been, gentlemen)

Big watch, heavy chain
Stones whiter than cocaine
Chyeah they all lames, gassed up off propane
No indirect, we come straight at your neck
Like them GD boys, we demanding the check
I'm a man of respect
Before I met ya, I never knew ya
It's all up in this
Everything goes on a ruler
Whips for my chicks
Bag of guns for my shooters
And I be blowin' Buddha
Sippin' slushies in Bermuda
I'm a D-Boy, rap is just my decoy
Homie, you ain't sure enough or
Cut up like Bruce Lee, boy george Jetson
To your lil' youngins you just Elroy
Y'all playin' with water guns
We playin' with real toys
Clips that clear the mall out
Make the love back down
Ts with your picture on it
Roses in the background
Turn out your lights
No Teddy P you come through Nicetown
Where your fake friends come around
When the price down alright, clown?

(Times have changed – where's
All the gangsters at?)
(Now all I see is skinny jeans and dancers
I don't dance)
(But some shit never changes, like the Roc)

Dark Rays, Marc J's, my nigga with a tall K
From Killadelph to Marcy
With Jigga at the Barclay
We kill them niggas easy
Like "fuck, I had a hard day"
We walk up, not far away
We shoot right through that hard clay
Bullets like Brady, ya vest can't help ya
I form you gon' catch everything
West welcome
Salsa dancin' on this shit, Victor Cruz
Ridin' with the chopper like I
Ain't got shit to lose
I'm a make the first page, every channel
Peep the news neef pull out a bag of straps
Let our shooters pick and choose
I'm a lively nigga's child, boy
You niggas dead (I tell ya)
But a heavy award on niggas' heads
Kill 'em quicker than cancer
Don't fuck with a nigga bread
It's the Roc, you bastards, a classic
You niggas scared? Third time's a charm
They say three strikes you out
Well I rumble, I'll fight again
I will Marquez a bout

(See, you missin' what we had)
(We stay on the streets)
(And you can forget about the
Glitz and the glamour
Cause they don't mean shit)
(Real hustlers stay on their grind)
(No matter how much you have
You can always use more)

I'm a, street nigga, real coke flipper
I got some freaks that'll deep-throat niggas
Bullets that'll hit ya
Sittin' in that brick house
Or, niggas'll catch you slippin'
Comin' out your bitch house
Or, goin' to the store
For that early-morning Dutch
Hop out the cut with the mack like "what up?"
If you ever disrespect us
Talkin' all reckless
You ain't never make enough money
For you to check us them boys back at it
White sheets for the static
Yellow tape's for the scene
45 mixed from the 'matic
So trust me, you don't want nothin', homie
I put this thing back
Together, no instructions, homie
And then I'm in the club
Bottle sippin', model gettin', hater dissin'
You niggas ain't heard me when I said it
Ain't no competition
It's the Roc – ain't nothin' stopped
I still'll set up shop on any block
Motherfucker!

(Here at the Roc, we use
Words like familia, hood, and honor)
(We use these as a backbone of
A life meant defending something)
(You use it as a punch line)
(I suggest you pick up a mic)

Tippin' strippers
Lickin' pictures with niggas that
Should've been dead they said "Crack
We respect the fact that you in here"
Blowin' hoop smoke, thick like a Newport
Life too short
Good to see some old friends here
PA and BK, back up in the CH
A-N-G, somebody call up the DA
Pedro C, you know me, we with Philippe
Between him and Ceeto, that work be finito
Wide by the ego, get hit in the causeway
One thing I learned from Jay is
To do it my way the sweetest taboo, bitch
You look like Shaday
Forehead big, and that ass Louis Thunder
Tryin' eat, so
I'm a see my brother for an entrée
Memphis Bleek know
He can call on his Property compadres
What they say out in the
A? They're my partners now
Remember them Roc-A-Fella days? We
Was wildin' then

It's the Roc, motherfuckers! Snitch that!
Twenty years deep in this game
We make history on a daily basis
The reign is never over it's only just begun