Do My... (feat. JAY-Z)

Turn that **** louder

It's the Roc in this ****, oh, yeah

Bounce (Uh-uh, yeah), bounce (Uh, oh, yeah, uh-huh, yeah)

Bounce (Come on), oh (Come on), yeah

Bounce (Yeah), bounce (Come on)

Do my ladies run this ****? (Yeah, yeah, come on)

Or do my thugs run this ****? (Yeah, yeah, come on)

Do my ladies run it? Fat **** 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 still ****

Throw a drink in the air let 'em know you still thuggin'

Yo, I come through, few of my mans, scoop you and your friends

You, you, and you with the Timbs

In tight jeans, Chinese eyes, Indian hair

Black girl ****, let me pour you a glass

Of Belvi, tell me all about your past

Let me console your soul while I palm your ****

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 wristses, I just skeeze ****

Break up happy homes, just seize missus

You'll never get her back, once you get a yap

How you love that?

How you love that?

Do my ladies run this ****? (Yeah, yeah, come on)

Or do my thugs run this ****? (Yeah, yeah, come on)

Do my ladies run it? Fat **** 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 still ****

Throw a drink in the air let 'em know you still thuggin'

Ayo, **** rollin', rap, you can't hold 'em

Roc gear matchin', crusin' through Manhattan

Bleek is chillin', Murda is chillin'

What more can I say? We still ****

Packs, we still ****, four wheels, we wheelin' 'em

Chicks like, "I'm feelin' him", yeah, ma, okay

Black jeans and Timberlands give 'em adrenaline rush

Ladies know the difference between them **** and us

We the R-O-C and we don't stop

They don't make a **** 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 new? 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 the roof off like I'm Busta Rhymes, ****

Do my ladies run this ****? (Yeah, yeah, come on)

Or do my thugs run this ****? (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Do my ladies run it? Fat **** 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 still ****

Throw a drink in the air let 'em know you still thuggin'

Do my ladies run this ****? (Uh-huh, uh-huh, okay)

Or do my thugs run this ****? (Uh-huh, okay, uh-huh)

It's the R-O-C, we don't stop

It's the R-O-C, we don't stop

R-O-C, we don't stop

Uh, Memph' Bleek, The Understanding

Get your mind right, haha, haha (Woo)