[Intro: Fat Joe]
Owwwwww! Yeah! My n***as, ahah
Throw your hands in the air right now, man!
Feel this shit right here, Scott Storch, n***a
Yeah Khaled, I see you n***a, ShowBiz, Born Lord
Uh, yeah, uh, yo

[Verse 1: Fat Joe]
I don't give a fuck about your faults or mishappens
N***a, we from the Bronx, New York, shit happens
Kids clappin', love to spark the place
Half the n***as in the Squad got a scar on their face
It's a cold world and this is ice
Half a mil' for the charm, n***a, this is life
Got the Phantom in front of the building, Trinity Ave
Ten years been legit, they still figure me bad
As a youngin, was too much to cope with
Why you think, muh'fuckers 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 n***a with the shotty was the logo, kid

[Chorus: Fat Joe]
I said my n***as 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 n***as don't dance
We just pull up our pants and, do the Rockaway
Now lean back, lean back
Lean back, lean back (come on!)
[Verse 2: Remy Martin]
R to the Ezzy, M to the Yzzy
My arms stay breezy, the Don stay flizzy
Got a date at 8, I'm in the 7-4-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 n***as 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, n***a, we still the same n***as
Flows just changed, now we 'bout to change the game, n***a

[Chorus: Fat Joe]
I said my n***as 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 n***as don't dance
We just pull up our pants and, do the Rockaway
Now lean back, lean back
Lean back, lean back (come on!)
[Verse 3: Fat Joe]
Now we living better now, Coogi sweater now
And that G4 can fly through any weather now
See, n***as get tight when you worth some millions
This is why I sport the chinchilla, to hurt they feelings
You can find Joe Crack at all type of shit
Out in Vegas front row to all the fights and shit
If 5-0 boy come then they'd proudly squeal
Cause half these rappers they blow like Derek Foreal
If you cross the line, damn right I'm gon' hurt you
These faggot n***as even made gang signs commercial
Even Lil' Bow Wow throwin' it up
B2K Crip walkin' like, "That's what's up!"
Kay 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 n***as didn't have to play to win the championship

[Chorus: Fat Joe]
I said my n***as 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 n***as don't dance
We just pull up our pants and, do the Rockaway
Now lean back, lean back
Lean back, lean back (come on!)
[Outro: Fat Joe]
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
[?], Raul, JB, [?], come on