[Jay-Z]
Turn that motherfucker louder
It's the Roc in this motherfucker
Bi-otch!
Oh yeah, bounce, uh uhbounce
Yeah, yeah bounce, come on
Oh come on bounce, come on

Do my ladies run this motherfucker?
(Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this 
motherfucker?
(Yeah, yeah, come on)

[Memphis Bleek]
Do my ladies run it
Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air
If it's the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it
Let 'em know that you're still 
gunnin'
Throw a drink in the air
Let 'em know you still thuggin'

Yo I come through, few of my man's
Scoop you and your friends
You, you, and you with the Timbs
In tight jeans, Chinese eyes
Indian hair, Black girl ass
Let me pour you a glass of Belvi
Tell me all about your past
Let me console your soul
While I palm your ass
And your man did what?
He ain't give you?
He cheated with her
I can't diss duke
I tell you this though
Get with this dude
I'll teach you about dough
And show you what this do (It's a secret society, all we ask is trust) But I don't freeze bitches Just skeeze bitches Break up happy homes Just seize misses You'll never get her back once you get a yacht How you love that? How you love that? [Jay-Z] Do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on) Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on) [Memphis Bleek] Do my ladies run it Fat asses and flat stomachs Throw a hand in the air If it's the year of the woman Or my dogs run it Let 'em know that you're still gunnin' Throw a drink in the air Let 'em know you still thuggin' Ay yo back woods rollin' Rap you can't hold 'em ROC gear matchin' cruisin throu manhattan Bleek is chillin', Murda is chillin' What more can I say? We still killin' em Bags we still dealin' em Four wheels, we wheelin' them Chicks like I'm feelin' him Yeah ma okay Black jeans and Timberlands Give them adrenaline rush Ladies know the difference between them niggas and us We the R-O-C and we don't stop They don't make a gun that we don't pop Matter fact they don't make a car that we don't drop Thought you knew they don't make jewels that we don't cop What you knew? You actin' like the ROC ain't hot Or the car that I cop ain't missin' a top And even if they don't make drops that kind I tear da roof off like I'm Busta Rhymes motherfucker [Jay-Z] Do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on) Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, yeah) Come on, come on [Memphis Bleek] Do my ladies run it Fat asses and flat stomachs Throw a hand in the air If it's the year of the woman Or my dogs run it Let 'em know that you're still gunnin' Throw a drink in the air Let 'em know you still thuggin' [Jay-Z] Do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Okay) Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Uh-huh, okay, uh-huh) Come on, come on It's the R-O-C, we don't stop It's the R-O-C, we don't stop It's the R-O-C, we don't stop Uh Memp Bleek, The Understanding niggas Get your mind right, ha-ha
Composição: Bernard Big Demi Parker / C. Harris / C. Thomas / Dwight Grant / E. Del Barrio / Hadi Muhammed / Haroun Elhadi / Inga Marchand / Irv Gotti / J Smith / Jay-Z / Jeffrey Atkins / K. Johnson / Lalo Schifrin / M. Jones / M. Thurston Cox / M. White / Malik Cox / Quincy Jones / R. Kelly / Raymond Grant / Richard Grant / Shawn Carter / T. Anderson / T.J. Green / Tim Mosley / Timbaland / V. WhiteColaboração e revisão: Jaqueline Moreira

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