Yeah Yeah Yeah

[Chorus: Remy Ma]

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Check it

[Verse 1: Remy Ma]

You see the girl get it poppin' like no other

Now they call me streets 'cause I, be on the block and I'm so gutter

My flow a butter; see Rem' got a whole lot of game

But none of y'all lame dudes gon' fuck her

I'm on some chill shit

But if you frontin' then I will flip

I'll give it to a little chick real quick

Oh you a real bitch? You ain't a bit real

You got little tits and your face looks like Emmitt Till

First I'ma get it hot, then I'ma get a deal

My budget none stop, my advance 10 mill

And when I'm not in the hood, I'm rockin' the hood

Smoke Vanilla dutches and stuff on Holly-a-wood

And if I, pollyin' the dick it's gotta be good

I tell him I could change his life just like the lottery could

And now I got him good, he believes me and he should

Some dudes don't go down but a lot of them would

I know this nigga name, Eat-it-out, he like to eat it out

I just cooked in the crib, he still want to eat it out (damn!)

Oh God, its Remy Martin

In a hot pink Porsche with the purple carpets, nigga!

[Chorus: Remy Ma]

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

[Remy Ma]

Oh God!

[Verse 2: Fat Joe (Remy Ma)]

Hollywood swingin'

Uhh, yo

Crack, who could believe he's in the cockpit (cockpit)

Overseas, movin' keys like a locksmith (yeah)

Rocks from Witsick in the sits of neck (okay)

All I do is warn 'cause that's the big boy jet (okay)

Uh, you never rocked with the R. in Chicago (noo!)

Or I picked up a bad bitch in a Murcielago (noo!)

I got cribs, better yet estates, man (man)

I'm in L.A. with Atlanta plates fam (fam)

Still niggas wanna go against Crack (Crack!)

But that's like (?) goin' against Shaq (Shaq!)

And that's too much Diesel, I got too much people (people)

Muh'fuckers, you crazy I'll leave you (I'll leave you!)

And I ain't got to tell how many sets I trip

But you can find me on the woods now that's a testament

Or maybe at a lounge with an extra bitch

Eye candy of the month, goddamn she sick!

She got a problem, I can help her with that

Tell her man that she's fuckin' with Crack

Bet he won't do nothin' (nope)

Frontin' like he gon' do somethin' (nope)

Quick to tell you that his whole crew stuntin' (talk to him!)

Talk to me, c'mon

[Chorus: Remy Ma]

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah!

[Outro: Fat Joe]

Yeah, feel that right there

Nod your head to this shit right here, that real hip-hop right there

It's Cook Coke Crack, TS, Remy Ma

Album coming, summer's ours cocksuckers

True Story, BX borough, uh!