Roc Reloaded - Freeway, Chris, Neef Buck

Guess who’s back, motherfuckers?!

Out with the old, in with the new

So, just when I thought I was out…

They pull me back in!

It’s the Roc, you bastards!

Let’s take it back to the street…

(Benji style, Benji style, Benji style…)

Look at these fuckin' guys

They’re not hungry anymore

They’re sloppy

The way they think, the way they move

Remember me, man?

Pain In Da Ass from the Roc?

Okay, we’re reloaded!

Freeway!

Best spitter, rapper — I’m a bitter animal

Rock icy charms, bear arms that’s mechanical

Burnt down booths, burnt beats, they all flammable

It’s the return of the Roc, bitch

The Loch Ness Monster of rap

Still here after a decade (I'm here)

You sick of all this bullshit rap?

Here’s your antidote

Flame things, we the A-Team, no Hannibal

Jay-Z my nigga, kill a nigga over camel toes

Bitch, you say it’s a Ace of Spades, I’ll break your legs

Hit you with the sawed-off, gettin' ate

You’ll make the news

I’m willin' to break out the Uz to get the pay

And wake up on these niggas to make my day, and make 'em move

Right to the East, and I represent for the East Coast

If we go to work, I got.44s in each holster

Furthermore, the.44 revolver’ll put you under more

You dyke bitches one-sided

This ain’t no tug of war

Naw!

(You gotta look at a guy’s eyes next to you)

(You're gonna see a guy who’s willing to sacrifice his life for the good of

this squad)

(That's what loyalty’s about — that’s what Roc-A-Fella's about)

(That's all it’s ever been, gentlemen…)

Big watch, heavy chain, stones whiter than cocaine

Chyeah they all lames, gassed up off propane

No indirect, we come straight at your neck

Like them GD boys, we demanding the check

I’m a man of respect

Before I met ya, I never knew ya

It’s all up in this, everything goes on a ruler

Whips for my chicks, bag of guns for my shooters

And I be blowin' Buddha, sippin' slushies in Bermuda

I’m a D-Boy, rap is just my decoy

Homie, you ain’t sure enough or cut up like Bruce Lee, boy

George Jetson, to your lil' youngins you just Elroy

Y’all playin' with water guns, we playin' with real toys

Clips that clear the mall out, make the love back down

Ts with your picture on it, roses in the background

Turn out your lights, no Teddy P. you come through Nicetown

Where your fake friends come around when the price down

Alright, clown?

(Times have changed — where’s all the gangsters at?)

(Now all I see is skinny jeans and dancers, I don’t dance)

(But some shit never changes, like the Roc)

Dark Rays, Marc J’s, my nigga with a tall K

From Killadelph to Marcy, with Jigga at the Barclay

We kill them niggas easy

Like «fuck, I had a hard day»

We walk up, not far away, we shoot right through that hard clay

Bullets like Brady, ya vest can’t help ya

I form you gon' catch everything, West welcome

Salsa dancin' on this shit, Victor Cruz

Ridin' with the chopper like I ain’t got shit to lose

I’m a make the first page, every channel, peep the news

Neef pull out a bag of straps, let our shooters pick and choose

I’m a lively nigga’s child, boy, you niggas dead (I tell ya)

But a heavy award on niggas' heads

Kill 'em quicker than cancer, don’t fuck with a nigga bread

It’s the Roc, you bastards, a classic, you niggas scared?

Third time’s a charm, they say three strikes you out

Well I rumble, I’ll fight again, I will Marquez a bout

(See, you missin' what we had)

(We stay on the streets)

(And you can forget about the glitz and the glamour, cause they don’t mean shit)

(Real hustlers stay on their grind)

(No matter how much you have, you can always use more)

I’m a, street nigga, real coke flipper

I got some freaks that’ll deep-throat niggas

Bullets that’ll hit ya, sittin' in that brick house

Or, niggas’ll catch you slippin', comin' out your bitch house

Or, goin' to the store for that early-morning Dutch

Hop out the cut with the mack like «what up?»

If you ever disrespect us, talkin' all reckless

You ain’t never make enough money for you to check us

Them boys back at it, white sheets for the static

Yellow tape’s for the scene,.45 mixed from the 'matic

So trust me, you don’t want nothin', homie

I put this thing back together, no instructions, homie

And then I’m in the club, bottle sippin', model gettin', hater dissin'

You niggas ain’t heard me when I said it, ain’t no competition

It’s the Roc — ain’t nothin' stopped

I still’ll set up shop on any block

Motherfucker!

(Here at the Roc, we use words like familia, hood, and honor)

(We use these as a backbone of a life meant defending something)

(You use it as a punch line)

(I suggest you pick up a mic)

Tippin' strippers, lickin' pictures with niggas that should’ve been dead

They said «Crack, we respect the fact that you in here»

Blowin' hoop smoke, thick like a Newport

Life too short, good to see some old friends here

PA and BK, back up in the CH

A-N-G, somebody call up the DA

Pedro C, you know me, we with Philippe

Between him and Ceeto, that work be finito

Wide by the ego, get hit in the causeway

One thing I learned from Jay is to do it my way

The sweetest taboo, bitch, you look like Shaday

Forehead big, and that ass Louis Thunder

Tryin' eat, so, I’m a see my brother for an entrée

Memphis Bleek know, he can call on his Property compadres

What they say out in the A?

They’re my partners now

Remember them Roc-A-Fella days?

We was wildin' then

It’s the Roc, motherfuckers!

Snitch that!

Twenty years deep in this game

We make history on a daily basis

The reign is never over

It’s only just begun