Song Lyrics

[Fat Joe (R. Kelly)]
(Ooohhh, mmm)
Yea, uh, uh (Fat Joe and the R)
That shit why'all (Breakin shit down)
Shake that, funky, funky, funky (Yeah)
Sticky, icky, icky - yeah uh
I got that shit why'all
I got that shit why'all
Uh yo yo

[Fat Joe]
Crackman and I'm at it again
Niggas had they run, now it's time for change
When we step in the club, nigga tuck ya chain
Got the mink on - same color the Range
Uh, pour liqour for my nigga that's gone
Big Pun! Then we party like we just came home
F*ck a bitch if she act to grown
I don't need that shit, I got my wife at home
Uh words slurrin, dirty urine
Drunk off of Henny and the 'jo keep burnin
Dancin with shorty and her friend keep flirtin
I don't always crush two but tonight seems certain
Party hard like "F*ck all why'all!"
Bottles in the air like we stuck up the bar
Terror Squad man you know who we are
Cruise through ya block and them drop-top Bentley's is ours

[Chorus - R. Kelly]
Yeah, we thuggin, rollin on dubs and,
Off up in the club, whylin like what
Got Cris' on pop, Henny wit no chaser, mami don't stop
Throwin up six o'clock, plus I got four hun-nies in the drop
And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot
And it's full with hunnies, panties with no tops
We take a puff of 'dro be-atch

[Fat Joe]
Yea uh, yea yea yo
Everybody want to know where the crib's at
Niggas just now gettin ice, so we get that
Mami starin at me like she want to get kidnapped
Money lookin happy with his wife but we triz that
Along with Lisa, Aisha, Shonda, Renee
Even ran through the dorms down in Morgan State
In Miami, pool-party off the chain
Gettin brains in the water on Memorial Day
Uh, grand-mami all cool and shit
It's ya birthday, show me what I'm foolin with
Like no doubt, pokin doll out, pull ya g-string down south
Owww! Pass that, give shorty a shot
True enough we gon' see if she naughty or not
I'm on E feelin ready and hot
I give 'em twenty a pop, leave the panties atop

[Chorus - R. Kelly]

[RK] Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up
[FJ] Yeah, Terror Squad, Rockland what the f*ck what
[RK] Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up
[FJ] Uh, uh, Rockland, Terror Squad what the f*ck what
[Both] Some of these kids is doin they own thing
But none of these kids stack chips like us
Some of these cats is doin they own thing
But none of these cats run tricks like us

[Chorus - R. Kelly]

[Fat Joe]
Haha, yeah uh
You know what this is
Chi-town - BX
What the f*ck what?
Out...

Ronald Bowser, Joseph Anthony Cartagena, Robert S Kelly