Rock Ya Body. [Fat Joe]. Aowwwwwwwwww! Cool & Dre. I was the one who believed in you!. Hahahaha. [Chorus]. I got one bad chick she by my side. About two more wait-in outside. Pull out the red carpet walk past the line. Pass the keys tell \'em please valet my ride. And just - rock ya body body rock ya body body. Rock ya body body rock ya body. Just rock - who the fuck you know like Cook?. Kill a nigga on a verse make \'em dance on a hook nowwww. [Fat Joe]. Joey see/C-Murder like five-oh-fo\'. Better have my money cause I knock on do\'s. Better yet I leave 17 peepholes squeeze with the eagle. Bet I murder like five-oh-fo\' - Crack yes!. You gon\' need protection. This dude mad nice with the Smith & Wessun. You know automatic stick shift revolver. Find me in the attic long dist\' the target. After that do the walk-through like phone booths. What\'chu gon\' do when them dudes run up on you and. rock ya body body catch somebody. Gon\' park the black Denali watch his body. just DROP - yeah I\'m street like that. Pull off the Benny Blanco yeah it beez like that. Your whole crew boomerang they ain\'t G\'s like that. Cause when it\'s time to shoot they quick to point the heat right back. Nigga. [Chorus]. [Fat Joe]. Yo if Suge rapped how hard would it be. But he don\'t so the closest thing you got is me. Ain\'t no damn near a rapper this loc\' as me. Cook Coke on top is how it\'s \'sposed to be nigga!. Yeah the Bronx is back. It\'s my niggaz Cool & Dre on this monster track. (What they do Fat?) Yeah we been on some Don shit. Been stompin niggaz unconcious. Been sendin niggaz to trauma; I bet now you wish. the only beef that you had is wit\'cha baby\'s momma. You best to wear your vest as a doo-rag. Cause I\'ma headbussa you don\'t want me to do dat. Yeah I need a new muh\'fucker to shoot at. More Bin Laden talk disappearin like Pookie from \"New Jack\". Said it yeah it\'s all out war. So do your jumpin jacks nigga make you hit the floor. [Chorus]. [Fat Joe]. Yes please believe she gorgeous. And she ain\'t gon\' leave once she see the fortress. The blood red G-T\'ll leave ya nauseous. And as for the wife mami please we\'re bosses. Crenshaw you can find me on the strip. Black Ferrari nine milli\' on the hip. You in South Beach wet willies on the strip. Shit I\'m in Dade County smokin phillies bumpin Trick nigga. New York y\'all know what it is!. Got a hundred guns got a hundred clips. Niggaz never listen \'til they vision turn bitch. Pawn you out of Vegas butt-naked in a ditch. (That\'s right) By now you can see that I\'m global. Slappin MC\'s for the dreams that they sold you. And all the false prophecies of niggaz takin shots at me. Find yourself hangin from your feet off the balcony. [Chorus]