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Uhh, uhh, uhh, let's goUhh, bounce, uhh, bounceUhh, bounce, uhh,Shit relax your mind, let your conscience be freeYou're now rollin with them thugs from the R-O-CSigel Sigel in the houseUh-huh, sick bastardGet your wig pushed back by the wig push-backerUhh, uhh, Memph Bleek in the houseStill here, never leftStill bust, more or less, still puff, beeatch!Uh, uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH, uhhYoung Hova in the house, Jigga! YeahCrist' sipper, six dipper, wrist glitter nigga!Hold up loveEverytime you see Jigga Man I'm rollin on dubsDon't forget about them blades shit choppin it upIt's the motherfuckin Roc bitch, who hotter than us?Jay-Hov, bout to change my name to Jay PesoBut in the meantime, call me William H. thoughOn the platinum Yamaha, got the engine gunninThrowin it up like liquor on an empty stomachLetras de cancionesY'all don't hear nuttin?Who that, Mac?Nah dawg, that's M. Bleek cominWho the FLUCK, want, what?Catch Bleek in South Beach out of the reach of the policeGat on my lap (yeah) bitch on my back (holla)Yak in my pocket, smokin the sticky chocolate (OO-WEE!)Holla if you want drama withThe Dynasty; Amil, Bleek, Jigga andSigel, Desert Eagle dawg, who else but me?Roc ears, Roc-Wears, bandannas and white teesMe without a gun dawg, unlikelyYou know I keep the heat right under the wifebeat'Three-X-T, I'm Lincoln now, you can't see the poundGot a little gut so gat sit tucked (fuck)I run wild, gun high, L.A. styleBang the roscoe to the sunrise, plus I stay dumb highWhether block shit or rock shitClub shit or drug shit, I pop shit I got shitGet Sig' any track I'ma spit the talk to itDown South gon' bounce Crips gon' walk to itGet a ounce, get a woods, everybody spark to itEvery dawg, every Blood in the hood, bark to itGet the ounce, get the woods, everybody spark to itWe can smoke in here, put the choke in the airDon't change the game for these hoesWho plays the game like we supposedSigel Sigel in the houseUh-huh, sick bastardGet your wig pushed back by the wig push-backerDon't change the game for these hoesWho plays the game like we supposedMemph Bleek in the houseStill here, never leftStill bust, more or less, still puff, beeatch!Don't change the game for these hoesWho plays the game like we supposedYoung Hova in the house Jigga!Crist' sipper, six dipper, wrist glitter nigga!I wear more bling to The Source and Soul Train'sMore chains than rings, niggaz won't do a thingI bangs the four-four in plain, daylight I'm derangedSpray right at your brain; by the way this is Hov'One shot Dillinger, one shot killin yaIt's only one Roc La FamiliaSigel lock Philly up, Brooklyn is meMatter of fact, the East coast fuck took it from meFourth album still Jay still spittin that real shitVolume 3 still sold more records than Will SmithCan't call this a comeback, I run rap, the fuck is y'all sayin?Five million I done that, and I come back, to do it again (uh-huh)Ex-sinner, Grammy award winnerBallin repeatedly, highlights on SportscenterPlease repeat after me, there's only one ruleI will not, lose! From Letras Mania