Lyrics Lean Back - Fat Joe, Lil Jon, Eminem

Lean Back

Yeah!
Yeah!
Eminem nigga!
Lil Jon nigga!
Mason Betha!
That is yours!
Uh Ya Harlem is back
Who in the world want a problem wit that
For real I heard Harlem is back
Who in the world want a problem wit that
Uh ya real Harlem is back
Who in the world want a problem wit that
Uh I heard Harlem is back
Who in the world want a problem wit that
I said my niggas don’t dance
We just pull up our pants
And do the roc-a-way
Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
Yo, yo, yo, we goin Deja Vu
Then the day ya’ll do
It’ll be the day ya’ll bleed
Rich minus eighty degrees
King of Harlem ain’t no body made me leave
Who else could take five years off
Cold turkey, come back, and fly leers off
Cats front they gonna leanin like smirnoff
If haters wanna hate then its their loss
Come up in the rucka wit all my jigs on
Got grills so big you can cook a steak on
You gonna hear Mase gone
When they get a Mase on
You a hot 16, I’m a very great song
If beatin on the DJ before the Mase song
He play Clark Kent, you better have your cape on
Plenty grooms, mansion many rooms
My neckless, two X’s, and three benty boom (lean back)
I said my niggas don’t dance
We just pull up our pants
And do the roc-a-way
Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
Eminem whats up!
You don’t want no problems with Harlem
You don’t want no problems wit da boogy down Bronxton
You don’t want no drama wit da blonde bomber
Original don gotta of the blonde bottle, the model
For white america, then Joe,
the spokesperson for the Latino
Then we got Mase back to represent
everything else in between
Includin the percentages of the rest, we dope
The best from each coast, the mid west to the dirty dirty!
Even further to Miami,
all the way back to Californ I A
It’ll prolly be best right now if I warn Dre
And get on the horn wit him tell him
bout the storm comin all our way
So tell a pal grab a gal, right now get on the floor why wait
Shake that ass a lil more my way or baby I dont dance
Not that I can’t, there’s a pistol in my pants
I said my niggas don’t dance
We just pull up our pants
And do the rock-away
Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
No Judas, a comadis Caine’s brother
Able to able to stop me nigga not me!
Got the streets askin damn who could top Pete
Summer Jam, killed it man did it all with one beat
I guess I’m bi-coastal now, took a
damn south brother to bring your boy out
As the wheel keep spinnin I can hear
niggas thinkin crack i got one hit benny out
Nope Joey bring them semi’s out of
course you and yours pour a lil henny out
So much rappers actin in the game,
I have to tell him put the mic away
and run and go and get your emmies out
Lean back mothafuckas, this here’s a three beat,
we back at the rucka
This cook coke crack preachin to your brother,
the mic more rap, we perachin to you mothafuckas
I said my niggas don’t dance
We just pull up our pants
And do the roc-a-way
Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
Say my niggas don’t dance we just pull out our gats
And blow your back away
Bitch nigga lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
Say my niggas don’t dance we just pull out our gats
And blow your backs away
Bitch niggas lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back
Hey!