Ugh, ugh, ugh, let′s go!

Ugh, bounce

Ugh, bounceUgh, bounce

Ugh

Shit, relax your mind, let your conscience be free

You're now rollin′ with them thugs from the R-O-C

Sigel-Sigel in the house! Uh-huh, sick bastard (yeah)

Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-back-er (ugh, ugh)

Memph' Bleek in the house! Still here, never left (ugh, ugh)

Still bust, more or less, still puff, bitch! (ugh, ugh)

Young Hova in the house, Jigga! (Yeah)

Cris' sipper, six-dipper, wrist-glitter, nigga!

Hold up, love

Every time you see Jiggaman, I′m rolling on dubs

Don′t forget about them blades, shit, chopping it up

It's the motherfucking Roc, bitch, who hotter than us?

Jay-Hov, ′bout to change my name to Jay Peso

But in the meantime, call me William H., though

On the platinum Yamaha, got the engine gunning

Throwing it up like liquor on an empty stomach

Y'all don′t hear nothing?

Who that, Mack? Naw, dawg, that's M. Bleek coming

Who the fuck, want, what!

Catch Bleek in South Beach, out of the reach of the police

Gat on my lap (yeah), bitch on my back (holla)

′Gnac in my pocket, smoking that sticky chocolate (ooh-wee!)

Holler if you want drama with

The Dynasty, Amil, Bleek, Jigga, and

Sigel, Desert Eagle, dawg, who else but me?

Roc Airs, Roc-Wears, bandanas and white tees

Me without a gun, dawg? Unlikely

You know I keep the heat right under the wife-beat'

Three-X tee, I'm Lincoln now, you can′t see the pound

Got a little gut, so the gat sit tucked (fuck)

I run wild, gun high, LA style

Bang the Roscoe ′til the sunrise; plus, I stay dumb high

Whether block shit or rock shit

Club shit or drug shit, I pop shit, I got shit

Get Sig' any track, I′ma spit the talk to it

Down South gon' bounce, Crips gon′ walk to it

Get a ounce, get a woods, everybody spark to it

Every dawg, every Blood in the hood, bark to it

Get the ounce, get the 'Woods, everybody spark to it

We can smoke in here, put the choke in the air (yeah)

(Don′t change the game for these hoes)

(Who plays the game like we supposed)

Sigel-Sigel in the house! Uh-huh, sick bastard (yeah)

Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer (ugh, ugh)

(Don't change the game for these hoes)

(Who plays the game like we supposed)

Memph' Bleek in the house! Still here, never left

Still bust, more or less, still puff, bitch!

(Don′t change the game for these hoes)

(Who plays the game like we supposed)

Young Hova in the house, Jigga!

Cris′ sipper, six-dipper, wrist-glitter, nigga! (Yeah)

I wear more bling to The Source and Soul Trains

More chains than rings, niggas won't do a thing

I bangs the four-four in plain daylight; I′m deranged

Spray right at your brain; by the way, this is Hov

One-shot Dillinger, one shot killing you

It's only one Roc La Familia

Sigel lock Philly up, Brooklyn is me

Matter of fact, the East Coast, fuck took it from me?

Fourth album, still Jay, still spitting that real shit

Volume 3, still sold more records than Will Smith

Can′t call this a comeback, I run rap, the fuck is y'all saying?

Five million? I done that, and I′ve come back

To do it again! (Uh-huh)

Ex-sinner, Grammy Award winner

Balling repeatedly, highlights on SportsCenter

Please repeat after me, it's only one rule

I will not lose!