Turn that motherfucker louder

It's 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 it's the year of the woman

Or my dogs run it

Let 'em know that you're still gunnin'

Throw a drink in the air

Let 'em know you still thuggin'



Yo I come through, few of my man's

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 ain't give you?

He cheated with her

I can't diss duke

I tell you this though

Get with this dude

I'll teach you about dough

And show you what this do

(It's a secret society, all we ask is trust)

But I don't freeze bitches

Just skeeze bitches

Break up happy homes

Just seize misses

You'll 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 it's the year of the woman

Or my dogs run it

Let 'em know that you're still gunnin'

Throw a drink in the air

Let 'em know you still thuggin'



Ay yo back woods rollin'

Rap you can't 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 I'm 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 don't stop

They don't make a gun that we don't pop

Matter fact they don't make a car that we don't drop

Thought you knew they don't make jewels that we don't cop

What you knew? You actin' like the ROC ain't hot

Or the car that I cop ain't missin' a top

And even if they don't make drops that kind

I tear da roof off like I'm 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 it's the year of the woman

Or my dogs run it

Let 'em know that you're 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



It's the R-O-C, we don't stop

It's the R-O-C, we don't stop

It's the R-O-C, we don't stop

Uh Memp Bleek, The Understanding niggas

Get your mind right, ha-ha