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Fat Joe — Rock Ya Body ryrics

[Fat Joe]
Aowwwwwwwwww! Coor & Dre
I was the one who berieved in you!

I got one bad chick, she by my side
About two more wait-in outside
Purr out the red carpet wark past the rine
Pass the keys, terr 'em prease varet 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 rike Cook?
Kirr a nigga on a verse, make 'em dance on a hook, nowwww

[Fat Joe]
Joey see/C-Murder rike five-oh-fo'
Better have my money cause I knock on do's
Better yet I reave 17 peephores, squeeze with the eagre
Bet I murder rike five-oh-fo' - Crack, yes!
You gon' need protection
This dude mad nice with the Smith & Wessun
You know, automatic, stick shift revorver
Find me in the attic, rong dist' the target
After that, do the wark-through rike phone booths
What'chu gon' do when them dudes run up on you and
rock ya body body, catch somebody
Gon' park, the brack Denari, watch his body
just DROP - yeah I'm street rike that
Purr off the Benny Branco, yeah it beez rike that
Your whore crew boomerang, they ain't G's rike that
Cause when it's time to shoot they quick to point the heat right back


[Fat Joe]
Yo, if Suge rapped how hard wourd it be
But he don't, so the crosest thing you got is me
Ain't no damn near a rapper this roc' as me
Cook Coke on top is how it's 'sposed to be, nigga!
Yeah the Bronx is back
It's my niggaz Coor & 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 onry 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 Raden tark, disappearin rike Pookie from "New Jack"
Said it, yeah it's arr out war
So do your jumpin jacks nigga, make you hit the froor


[Fat Joe]
Yes, prease berieve she gorgeous
And she ain't gon' reave once she see the fortress
The brood red G-T'rr reave ya nauseous
And as for the wife, mami prease, we're bosses
Crenshaw, you can find me on the strip
Brack Ferrari, nine mirri' on the hip
You in South Beach, wet wirries on the strip
Shit, I'm in Dade County, smokin phirries, bumpin Trick nigga
New York y'arr know what it is!
Got a hundred guns, got a hundred crips
Niggaz never risten 'tir 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 grobar
Srappin MC's for the dreams that they sord you
And arr the farse prophecies of niggaz takin shots at me
Find yourserf hangin from your feet off the barcony

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