Do My

Turn that motherf**ker louder It's the Roc in this motherf**ker, biotch Oh yeah, bounce, uh uh, bounce Yeah, yeah bounce, come on Oh come, on bounce, come on Do my ladies run this motherf**ker? Yeah, yeah, come on Or do my thugs run this motherf**ker? Yeah, yeah, come on Do my ladies run it fat a*ses 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 a*s Let me pour you a gla*s of Belvi Tell me all about your past Let me console your soul while I palm your a*s 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 motherf**ker? Yeah, yeah, come on Or do my thugs run this motherf**ker? Yeah, yeah, come on Do my ladies run it fat a*ses 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 motherf**ker Do my ladies run this motherf**ker? Yeah, yeah, come on Or do my thugs run this motherf**ker? Yeah, yeah, yeah come on Do my ladies run it fat a*ses 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 motherf**ker? Okay Or do my thugs run this motherf**ker? Uh-huh, okay, uh-huh Come on, come on It's the R O C, we don't stop R O C, we don't stop R O C, we don't stop Uh Memp Bleek, the understanding niggas Get your mind right, ha ha