The Bronx is in the back shooting craps now, what's up? Throw your hands in the sky (buh-buh-buh-buh-buh) You holding up the wall then you missing the point This is for either or Rollies or Timex-eses Whether you're riding the train or a Lexus-es 'Cause I asked the girls to rub on their breast-eses Some might even say this song is sexist-es Slated to be the best, I must confess, the star made it If you tired of the same old everyday you will agree, I'm Heads give you beef, you put 'em in the mausoleumĪnd shit don't start pumping 'til after 12 PM Yeah, fuck it, I said rub on your titties (uh huh) Put your hands to the sky (buh-buh-buh-buh-buh)īrooklyn in the back shooting craps now, what's up? If you holding up the wall, then you missin' the point Rock, clock dollars, flip tips like a waiterīlock shots, style's greater, let my lyrics anoint I'm soon to motivate a room, control the game like Tomb Raider
You sold platinum 'round the world, I sold wood in the hoodīut when I'm in the street and shit, it's all good Took my underground loot, without the gold I alleviated the pain with long-term goals Strayed from your original plan, you deviated You all up in ya Range and shit, inebriated (uh huh) Pharoahe fuckin' Monch, ain't a damn thing changed (uh) That act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty New York City gritty committee pity the fool Queens is in the back sipping 'gnac, y'all, what's up?
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