Fat Joe: We thuggin

[Fat Joe (R. Kelly)] (Ooohhh, mmm) Yea, uh, uh (Fat Joe and the R) That shit y'all (Breakin shit down) Shake that, funky, funky, funky (Yeah) Sticky, icky, icky - yeah uh I got that shit y'all I got that shit y'all Uh yo yo [Fat Joe] Crackman and I'm at it again Niggas had they run, now it's time for change When we step in the club, nigga tuck ya chain Got the mink on - same color the Range Uh, pour liqour for my nigga that's gone Big Pun! Then we party like we just came home Fuck a bitch if she act to grown I don't need that shit, I got my wife at home Uh words slurrin, dirty urine Drunk off of Henny and the 'jo keep burnin Dancin with shorty and her friend keep flirtin I don't always crush two but tonight seems certain Party hard like "Fuck all y'all!" Bottles in the air like we stuck up the bar Terror Squad man you know who we are Cruise through ya block and them drop-top Bentley's is ours [Chorus - R. Kelly] Yeah, we thuggin, rollin on dubs and, Off up in the club, whylin like what Got Cris' on pop, Henny wit no chaser, mami don't stop Throwin up six o'clock, plus I got four hun-nies in the drop And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot And it's full with hunnies, panties with no tops We take a puff of 'dro be-atch [Fat Joe] Yea uh, yea yea yo Everybody wanna know where the crib's at Niggas just now gettin ice, so we get that Mami starin at me like she wanna get kidnapped Money lookin happy with his wife but we triz that Along with Lisa, Aisha, Shonda, Renee Even ran through the dorms down in Morgan State In Miami, pool-party off the chain Gettin brains in the water on Memorial Day Uh, grand-mami all cool and shit It's ya birthday, show me what I'm foolin with Like no doubt, pokin doll out, pull ya g-string down south Owww! Pass that, give shorty a shot True enough we gon' see if she naughty or not I'm on E feelin ready and hot I give 'em twenty a pop, leave the panties atop [Chorus - R. Kelly] [RK] Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up [FJ] Yeah, Terror Squad, Rockland what the fuck what [RK] Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up [FJ] Uh, uh, Rockland, Terror Squad what the fuck what [Both] Some of these kids is doin they own thing But none of these kids stack chips like us Some of these cats is doin they own thing But none of these cats run tricks like us [Chorus - R. Kelly] [Fat Joe] Haha, yeah uh You know what this is Chi-town - BX What the fuck what? Out...