[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' crews
  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