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Lean Back
Dirty Outlaw Crew
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Owwww!
ย
Yeah!
Huh, uh, uh
Throw your hands in the air right now, man
Feel this right here
Scott Storch
Yeah, Khaled I see you
Showbiz, Sean Leon, uh
Yeah, uh, yo
I don't give a {fuck} 'bout your faults or mishappens
We from the Bronx, New York where hits happen
Kids clappin', love to spark the place
Half the {niggas} in the squad got a scar on they face
It's a cold world and this is ice
Half a mill' for the charm, this is life
Got the Phantom in front of the building, Trinity Ave
Ten years belligerent, they still figure me bad
As a youngster, was too much to cope with
Why you think my {niggas} nicknamed me Cook Coke?
Shoulda been called Armed Robbery
Extortion, or maybe Grand Larceny
I did it all, I put the pieces to the puzzle
Piss low, I knew me and my people was gon' bubble
Came out the gate on some Flo-Jo
{Shit} fat with the shorty with the logo, kid
My {niggas} don't dance, we just pull up our pants and
Do the Roc-a-Wear (Throw your drinks up!)
Lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back (C'mon!)
I say, my {niggas} don't dance, we just pull up our pants and
Do the Roc-a-Wear (Can you hear me?)
Lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back (C'mon!)
R to the EZ, M to the Wizzot
My arms stay breezy, the Don stay fizzot
Got a '88, I'm in the 7-4 to fizzot
And I just bought a bike so I can ride 'til I die
With a matchin' jacket, 'bout to cop me a mansion
My {niggas} 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 with metal detectors
And there really ain't a need for a V.I.P. section
In the middle of a dance floor, reckless, check it, set it
Like my neck and started relaxin'
Now that's what the {fuck} I call a chain reaction
See, money ain't a thing, we still the same
Flows just change, now we 'bout to change the game
My {niggas} don't dance, we just pull up our pants and
Do the Roc-a-Wear (Throw your drinks up!)
Lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back (C'mon!)
I say, my {niggas} don't dance, we just pull up our pants and
Do the Roc-a-Wear (Can you hear me?)
Lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back (C'mon!)
Now we livin' better now, Gucci sweater now
And that G4 can fly through any weather now
See, a {nigga} get tight when you worth some millions
That's why I sport the chinchilla, hurt they feelings
You can find Joe Crack at all types
Out in Vegas, front row to all the fights
If I was born Compton, they'd probably squeal
'Cause half these rappers dead broke like dead {vietnam} real
If you cross the line, damn right I'm gon' hurt ya
These {niggas} even made gang signs commercial
Even Lil' Bow Wow throwin' it up
B2K Crip walkin' like that's what's up
Can't keep tellin' me to speak about the ruckus
Matter of fact, I don't wanna speak about the rucka
Not even Pee Wee Kirkland could imagine this
My {niggas} didn't have to play to win the championship
My {niggas} don't dance, we just pull up our pants and
Do the Roc-a-Wear (Throw your drinks up!)
Lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back (C'mon!)
I say, my {niggas} don't dance, we just pull up our pants and
Do the Roc-a-Wear (Can you hear me?)
Lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back (C'mon!)
Yeah! (Can you hear me?)
Bronx, BX, bruh, Terror Squad, uh!
Big Pun forever
(Can you hear me?) Tony Montana forever, uh!
Yeah, streets is ours
'Nam, it ain't never gon' stop
It's Church, Raul
J.B. Fattin, c'mon, uh!
ย