Neef Buck - Roc Reunion lyrics

[Intro] Guess who's back, motherf**ers?! Out with the old, in with the new So, just when I thought I was out... They pull me back in! It's the Roc, you ba*tards! Let's take it back to the street... (Benji style, Benji style, Benji style...) Look at these f**in' guys They're not hungry anymore They're sloppy The way they think, the way they move Remember me, man? Pain In Da Ass from the Roc? Okay, we're reloaded! Freeway! [Verse 1: Freeway] Best spitter, rapper - I'm a bitter animal Rock icy charms, bear arms that's mechanical Burnt down booths, burnt beats, they all flammable It's the return of the Roc, b**h The Loch Ness Monster of rap Still here after a decade (I'm here) You sick of all this bullsh** rap? Here's your antidote Flame things, we the A-Team, no Hannibal Jay-Z my n***a, k** a n***a over camel toes b**h, you say it's a Ace of Spades, I'll break your legs Hit you with the sawed-off, gettin' ate You'll make the news I'm willin' to break out the Uz to get the pay And wake up on these n***as to make my day, and make 'em move Right to the East, and I represent for the East Coast If we go to work, I got.44s in each holster Furthermore, the.44 revolver'll put you under more You dyke b**hes one-sided This ain't no tug of war Naw! [Dialog] (You gotta look at a guy's eyes next to you) (You're gonna see a guy who's willing to sacrifice his life for the good of this squad) (That's what loyalty's about – that's what Roc-A-Fella's about) (That's all it's ever been, gentlemen...) [Verse 2: Neef Buck] Big watch, heavy chain, stones whiter than c**aine Chyeah they all lames, ga**ed up off propane No indirect, we come straight at your neck Like them GD boys, we demanding the check I'm a man of respect Before I met ya, I never knew ya It's all up in this, everything goes on a ruler Whips for my chicks, bag of guns for my shooters And I be blowin' Buddha, sippin' slushies in Bermuda I'm a D-Boy, rap is just my decoy Homie, you ain't sure enough or cut up like Bruce Lee, boy George Jetson, to your lil' youngins you just Elroy Y'all playin' with water guns, we playin' with real toys Clips that clear the mall out, make the love back down Ts with your picture on it, roses in the background Turn out your lights, no Teddy P. you come through Nicetown Where your fake friends come around when the price down Alright, clown? (Times have changed – where's all the gangsters at?) (Now all I see is skinny jeans and dancers, I don't dance) (But some sh** never changes, like the Roc) [Verse 3: Young Chris] Dark Rays, Marc J's, my n***a with a tall K From k**adelph to Marcy, with Jigga at the Barclay We k** them n***as easy Like "f**, I had a hard day" We walk up, not far away, we shoot right through that hard clay Bullets like Brady, ya vest can't help ya I form you gon' catch everything, West welcome Salsa dancin' on this sh**, Victor Cruz Ridin' with the chopper like I ain't got sh** to lose I'm a make the first page, every channel, peep the news Neef pull out a bag of straps, let our shooters pick and choose I'm a lively n***a's child, boy, you n***as dead (I tell ya) But a heavy award on n***as' heads k** 'em quicker than cancer, don't f** with a n***a bread It's the Roc, you ba*tards, a cla**ic, you n***as scared? Third time's a charm, they say three strikes you out Well I rumble, I'll fight again, I will Marquez a bout (See, you missin' what we had) (We stay on the streets) (And you can forget about the glitz and the glamour, cause they don't mean sh**) (Real hustlers stay on their grind) (No matter how much you have, you can always use more) [Verse 4: Memphis Bleek] I'm a, street n***a, real coke flipper I got some freaks that'll deep-throat n***as Bullets that'll hit ya, sittin' in that brick house Or, n***as'll catch you slippin', comin' out your b**h house Or, goin' to the store for that early-morning Dutch Hop out the cut with the mack like "what up?" If you ever disrespect us, talkin' all reckless You ain't never make enough money for you to check us Them boys back at it, white sheets for the static Yellow tape's for the scene,.45 mixed from the 'matic So trust me, you don't want nothin', homie I put this thing back together, no instructions, homie And then I'm in the club, bottle sippin', model gettin', hater dissin' You n***as ain't heard me when I said it, ain't no competition It's the Roc – ain't nothin' stopped I still'll set up shop on any block Motherf**er! (Here at the Roc, we use words like familia, hood, and honor) (We use these as a backbone of a life meant defending something) (You use it as a punch line) (I suggest you pick up a mic) [Verse: Peedi Crakk] Tippin' strippers, lickin' pictures with n***as that should've been dead They said "Crack, we respect the fact that you in here" Blowin' hoop smoke, thick like a Newport Life too short, good to see some old friends here PA and BK, back up in the CH A-N-G, somebody call up the DA Pedro C, you know me, we with Philippe Between him and Ceeto, that work be finito Wide by the ego, get hit in the causeway One thing I learned from Jay is to do it my way The sweetest taboo, b**h, you look like Shaday Forehead big, and that a** Louis Thunder Tryin' eat, so, I'm a see my brother for an entrée Memphis Bleek know, he can call on his Property compadres What they say out in the A? They're my partners now Remember them Roc-A-Fella days? We was wildin' then [Outro] It's the Roc, motherf**ers! Snitch that! Twenty years deep in this game We make history on a daily basis The reign is never over It's only just begun