Terror Squad, Remy Ma, Fat Joe - Yeah Yeah Yeah lyrics

Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah check it

You see the girl get it poppin' like no other
Now they call me streets 'cause I
Be on the block and I'm so gutter
My flow a butter see Rem' got
A whole lot of game
But none of y'all lame dudes gon' fuck her
I'm on some chill shit
But, if you frontin' then I will flip
I'll give it to a little chick real quick
Oh you a real bitch? You ain't a bit real
You got little tit's and your
Face looks like Emmitt Till
First I'ma get it hot, then I'ma get a deal
My budget none stop, my advance 10 mill
And when I'm not in the hood
I'm rockin' the hood
Smoke Vanilla dutches and
Stuff on Holly-a-wood and if I
Pollyin' the dick it's gotta be good
I tell him I could change his
Life just like the lottery could
And now I got him good
He believes me and he should
Some dudes don't go down but
A lot of them would
I know this nigga name, Eat-it-out
He like to eat it out
I just cooked in the crib
He still want to eat it out (damn)
Oh God, it's Remy Martin
In a hot pink Porsche
With the purple carpets, nigga!

Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah

Oh God!

Hollywood swingin' uhh, yo
Crack, who could believe he's in the cockpit
(cockpit)
Overseas, movin' keys like a locksmith (yeah)
Rocks from Wit'sick in the sit's of neck
(okay) all I do is warn 'cause
That's the big boy jet (okay)
Uh, you never rocked with the R in Chicago
(noo)
Or I picked up a bad bitch in a Murcielago
(noo)
I got cribs, better yet estates, man (man)
I'm in LA with Atlanta plates fam (fam)
Still niggas wanna go against Crack (Crack)
But that's like goin' against Shaq (Shaq)
And that's too much Diesel
I got too much people (people)
Muh'fuckers, you crazy I'll leave you
(I'll leave you)
And I ain't got to tell how many sets I trip
But, you can find me on the
Woods now that's a testament
Or maybe at a lounge with an extra bitch
Eye candy of the month, goddamn she sick!
She got a problem, I can help her with that
Tell her man that she's fuckin' with Crack
Bet he won't do nothin' (nope)
Frontin' like he gon' do somethin' (nope)
Quick to tell you that
His whole crew stuntin' (talk to him)
Talk to me, c'mon

Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah!

Yeah, feel that right there
Nod your head to this shit right here
That real Hip-Hop right there
It's Cook Coke Crack, TS, Remy Ma
Album coming, summer's ours cocksuckers
True Story, BX borough, uh!