[Fat Joe (R. Kelly)] 
(Ooohhh, mmm) 
Yea, uh, uh (Fat Joe and the R) 
That shit y’all (Breakin shit down) 
Shake that, funky, funky, funky (Yeah) 
Sticky, icky, icky - yeah uh 
I got that shit y’all 
I got that shit y’all 
Uh yo yo 

[Fat Joe] 
Crackman and I’m at it again 
Niggas had they run, now it’s time for change 
When we step in the club, nigga tuck ya chain 
Got the mink on - same color the Range 
Uh, pour liqour for my nigga that’s gone 
Big Pun! Then we party like we just came home 
Fuck a bitch if she act to grown 
I don’t need that shit, I got my wife at home 
Uh words slurrin, dirty urine 
Drunk of off Henny and the Joe keep burnin 
Dancin with shorty and her friend keep flirtin 
I don’t always crush two but tonight seems certain 
Party hard like “Fuck all y’all!” 
Bottles in the air like we stuck up the bar 
Terror Squad man you know who we are 
Cruise through ya block and them drop-top Bentley’s is ours 

[Chorus - R. Kelly] 
Yeah, we thuggin, rollin on dubs and, 
Off up in the club, whylin like what 
Got Cris’ on pop, Henny wit no chaser, mami don’t stop 
Throwin up six o’clock, plus I got four hun-nies in the drop 
And my man Joe’s got the keys to the spot 
And it’s full with hunnies, panties with no tops 
We take a puff of ‘dro be-atch 

[Fat Joe] 
Yea uh, yea yea yo 
Everybody wanna know where the crib’s at 
Niggas just now gettin ice, so we get that 
Mami starin at me like she wanna get kidnapped 
Money lookin happy with his wife but we triz that 
Along with Lisa, Aisha, Shonda, Renee 
Even ran through the dorms down in Morgan State 
In Miami, pool-party off the chain 
Gettin brains in the water on Memorial Day 
Uh, grand-mami all cool and shit 
It’s ya birthday, show me what I’m foolin with 
Like no doubt, pokin doll out, pull ya g-string down south 
Owww! Pass that, give shorty a shot 
True enough we gon’ see if she naughty or not 
I’m on E feelin ready and hot 
I give ‘em twenty a pop, leave the pennies atop 

[Chorus - R. Kelly] 

[RK] Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up 
[FJ] Yeah, Terror Squad, Rockland what the fuck what 
[RK] Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up 
[FJ] Uh, uh, Rockland, Terror Squad what the fuck what 

[Both] Some of these kids is doin they own thing 
But none of these kids stack chips like us 
Some of these cats is doin they own thing 
But none of these cats run tricks like us 

[Chorus - R. Kelly] 

[Fat Joe] 
Haha, yeah uh 
You know what this is 
Chi-town - BX 
What the fuck what? 
Out