[The Rock] Yo this is the Rock kicking it with the Refugee camp And you're bout to smell what the Rock is cooking
[Wyclef Jean](The Rock) Yo this is strictly a club record Dedicated to everybody who used to stand outside in the cold When the LFEX was spinning at the Red Zone Putting it down And the tired bouncers would not let me in Know what I'm saying?
Yo, 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 sharing, people ain't caring Come up in the hood and take everything you're wearing
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 their birthday Me I used to hustle my way in I'm on the guest list plus five! Who's performing tonight? He said Shabba Mister Lover that be needy and selective (Someone jump the Rock's up in here) Disrespect emcees and catch a smack in your left ear Light up like Vegas when its 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 An ebony or ivory into my Jacuzzi Foundation like Cool Hirth as DJ Red Alert go bizzerk 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 sharing, people ain't caring Come up in the hood and take everything you're wearing Yo Rock I just bought a fresh Bentley (It doesn't matter you just bought a fresh Bentley)
[Wyclef](Melky Sedeck) How many of y'all ever been to a barbecue And you always got an Uncle Juan that wanna show you How all the dances go And they start it off like this Electric side 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 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 I think she want to indulge in lyrical masturbation So I proceeded with the compensation, I said Can I offer you a glass of Merrill Mrs. No Name?
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