A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

FAT JOE lyrics : "Rock Ya Body"

[Fat Joe]
Aowwwwwwwwww! Cool & Dre
I was the one who believed in you!

Hahahaha

[Chorus]

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 $#&@ you know like Cook?
Kill a ^!$$% on a verse, make 'em dance on a hook, nowwww


[Fat Joe]
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
^!$$%


[Chorus]


[Fat Joe]
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 !@&@e on top is how it's 'sposed to be, ^!$$%!
Yeah the Bronx is back

It's my ^!$$%z Cool & Dre on this monster track
(What they do Fat?) Yeah we been on some Don %#@!
Been stompin ^!$$%z unconcious

Been sendin ^!$$%z 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'ma headbussa, you don't want me to do dat
Yeah I need a new muh'$#&@er 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 ^!$$%, make you hit the floor


[Chorus]

[Fat Joe]

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
%#@!, I'm in Dade County, smokin phillies, bumpin Trick ^!$$%
New York y'all know what it is!

Got a hundred guns, got a hundred clips
^!$$%z never listen 'til they vision turn (*##$
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 ^!$$%z takin shots at me

Find yourself hangin from your feet off the balcony

[Chorus]

Submit Corrections