Lean Back

Aww! Yeah!
My niggas, throw your hands in the air right now, man!
Feel this shit right here
Scott Storch, nigga
Yeah, Khaled, I see you nigga
ShowBiz, Born Lord

(Yeah, uh, yeah)
I don't give a fuck about your faults or mishappens nigga
We from the Bronx, New York, shit happens
Kids clappin', love to spark the place
Half the niggas in the squad got a scar on their face

It's a cold world and this is ice
Half a mil' for the charm, nigga, this is life
Got the Phantom (ha) in front of the building
Trinity Ave, ten years been legit
They still figure me bad (ha-ha-ha)

As a youngin, was too much to cope with
Why you think mah'fuckas nicknamed me Cook Coke shit?
Should've been called Armed Robbery
Extortion, or maybe Grand Larceny

I did it all, I put the pieces to the puzzle
Just as long, I knew me and my peoples was gon' bubble
Came out the gate on some Flo-Jo shit
Fat nigga with the shotty was the logo, kid

I said my niggas don't dance
We just pull up our pants and do the Rockaway
Now lean back, lean back
Lean back, lean back (come on)

I said my niggas don't dance
We just pull up our pants and do the Rockaway (can you hear me?)
Now lean back, lean back (uh-huh, that's right)
Lean back, lean back (uh-huh, come on, yeah)

R to the eazy, M to the wiz-Y
My arms stay breezy, the Don stay flizzye
Got a date at 8, I'm in the 740 fizzive
And I just bought a bike, so I can ride 'til I die

With a matchin' jacket, 'bout to cop me a mansion
My niggas in the club, but you know they not dancin'
We gangsta, and gangstas don't dance, we boogie
So never mind how we got in here with burners and hoodies

Listen, we don't pay admission and the bouncers don't check us
And we walk around the metal detectors
And there really ain't a need for a V.I.P. section
In the middle of the dance floor reckless, check it

Said he liked my necklace, started relaxin'
Now that's what the fuck I call a chain reaction
See, money ain't a thang, nigga, we still the same niggas
Flows just changed, now we 'bout to change the game, nigga

I said my niggas don't dance
We just pull up our pants and do the Rockaway
Now lean back, lean back
Lean back, lean back (come on)

I said my niggas don't dance
We just pull up our pants and do the Rockaway
Now lean back, lean back
Lean back, lean back (uh-huh, come on)

Now we living better now, Coogi sweater now
And that G4 can fly through any weather now
See, niggas get tight when you worth some millions
This is why I sport the chinchilla, to hurt they feelings

You can find Joe crackin' all type of shit
Out in Vegas, front row to all the fights and shit
If Five-O boy come then they probably squeal
'Cause half these rappers, they blow like Derek Foreal

If you cross the line, damn right, I'm gon' hurt you
These faggot niggas even made gang signs commercial
Even Lil' Bow Wow throwin' it up
B2K Crip walkin' like, "That's what's up!"

Can't keep tellin' me to speak about the Rucker
Matter of fact, I don't wanna speak about the Rucker
Not even Pee Wee Kirkland could imagine this
My niggas didn't have to play to win the championship

Niggas don't dance
We just pull up our pants and do the Rockaway
Now lean back, lean back
Lean back, lean back (come on)

I said my niggas don't dance
We just pull up our pants and do the Rockaway
Now lean back (aha), lean back (that's it)
Lean back, lean back (uh-huh, come on)

Yeah (can you hear me?)
Bronx, BX borough, Terror Squad (uh)
Big Pun forever, Tone Montana forever, uh (can you hear me?)
Yeah, streets is ours, come on
Nah, man, it ain't never gon' stop
Serge, Raul, JB Fat (ayy, come on)



Credits
Writer(s): Scott Storch, Remy Smith, Joseph Cartagena
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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