Yo this is the Rock kicking it with the Refugee camp And you're bout to smell what the Rock is cookin'
Yo this is strictly a club record Dedicated to everybody who used to stand outside in the cold When the F-L-E-X was spinnin at the Red Zone, hooded down And these tired bouncers would not let me in YouknowwhatI'msayin?
Yo, yo, yo I got fifty Bentley's in the West Indies (It doesn't matter!) I got a pocket full of cheese and a garden full of trees (It doesn't matter!) I just won the bingo bought a crib in Rio (It doesn't matter!) Cause if you ain't sharin, people ain't carin Come up in the hood and they take everything you wearin
Back in the days it was all about the clubs And the so-called thugs used to dance the break for love The girls, they wouldn't say HEY! Unless you bought 'em champagne like it was they birthday Me, I used to stand outside Hustlin my way in I'm on the guest list plus five! Who's performin tonight? He said Shabba Mister Lover Daddy he be the selector (Someone jump the Rock's up in here) Disrespect emcees and catch a smack in your left ear Light up like Vegas when it's time to gamble Girls scream for me like I was part of the Beatles But I'm not honey, but I could be your Paul McCartney and "Ebony or Ivory" into my Jacuzzi Foundation like Kool Herc, or DJ Red Alert goes bezerk The needle ain't skip the record jerked Cause y'all jumpin' too hard (Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!)
[Wyclef (The Rock)] I got fifty Bentley's in the West Indies (It doesn't matter!) I got a pocket full of cheese and a garden full of trees (It doesn't matter!) What? I just won the bingo bought a crib in Rio (It doesn't matter!) Yo cause if you ain't sharin, people ain't carin Come up in the hood and they take everything you wearin Yo Rock I just bought a fresh Bentley (It doesn't matter you just bought a fresh Bentley!)
How many of y'all ever been to a barbecue And you always got an aunt or uncle wanna show you how the old dances go And they start it off like this Electric slide on the dance floor Freaky-deaky like Studio 54 GIRLS!! Until the IRS raids it Drug money get converted into music The dope man becomes an entertainer Leave that crack alone! I told the customers I'm into bigger and better things Mr. Fiend You want a hit? Give me a guitar and a drum machine And the crowd will scream loud when the bass thump I can smell it in the air, the smell is funk {*cough cough*} Excuse me I gotta cough Girl you in so much ice you could freeze New York You're man must really love you, what does he do for a living? (He works on Wall Street he's only home two nights a week) That's when she said a little too much conversation Think she want to indulge in lyrical masturbation So I proceeded with the conversation, I said Can I offer you a glass of Merlot Mrs. No Name? (Let's get it straight huh, my name's Veronica) She had the ass the size of South America She said ain't you that kid that sing Guantanamera way before Ricky Martin sung "Livin' La Vida Loca" What hood you come from? I was raised in Brooklyn, but did my studies in Jerusalem The New Jerusalem yup, that's short for New Jersey Checked my watch it was a quarter to three Slid to her crib when we opened the door Her man was on the bottle waiting for her with the 44
Now what it look like, it ain't really that (It doesn't matter!) So he cocked the gat at my top hat (It doesn't matter!) Are you crazy? You was married! (It doesn't matter!) Cause if you ain't sharin, people ain't carin Come up in your hood and they take everything you wearin