rock to the rhythm - ruste juxx lyrics
[verse 1]
it goes rock to the rhythm, to the rhythm you rock
it’s about to pop off like a fresh new glock
certified platinum as soon as i wrap ’em
now i ain’t gotta nab ’em, gag ’em and cap ’em
i could write an anthem to cop me a phantom
throw you in a trance and keep the crowds dancing
cash in advance, i’m looking for a mansion
few houndred acres cause it’s all about expansion
bounce to the b-ss, to the b-ss you bounce
i’mma about to get with baby girl and burn me an ounce
i ain’t gotta game ’em, moment philly train ’em
they rolling with the ruste, so how can i blame ’em?
bk -ss-ssin, aiming and blasting
making sure these wack artist’ careers won’t be lasting
my bean-town homies gettin that green
and you can catch me road wild spittin that mean
[hook]
rock to the rhythm, to the rhythm you rock
rock to the rhythm, to the rhythm you rock
rock to the rhythm, to the rhythm you rock
to the rhythm you rock, to the rhythm you rock
bounce to the b-ss, to the b-ss you bounce
bounce to the b-ss, to the b-ss you bounce
bounce to the b-ss, to the b-ss you bounce
to the b-ss you bounce, to the b-ss you bounce
[verse 2]
move to the groove, to the groove you move
it’s about to go down, if you snooze you lose
certified platinum as soon as i wrap ’em
i ain’t gotta jab ’em, drag ’em or stab ’em
my producer arcitype’s the future
i won’t dispite ya, send someone to shoot ya
tracks all flame and the lyrics all poison
do it for the pretty fly women and my boys and
shout out to my haters cause they keep me inspired
as i work towards building a new empire
brooklyn in the backgroun, juxx never back down
from bronx, the queens, harlem and back down
i tow sh-g ’em, black body bag ’em
fill ’em up with a whole clique from the magnum
you know what crime it is, 187
juxx .730 with a .357
[hook]
[verse 3]
i need to hear you make noise, put your hands up
i’m a bonofied pro, rip jams up
stage dive on ’em really, get live on ’em
juxx is surprised cause they all keep they eyes on him
i’m like lightyears ahead of you
the executer slicing, beheading you
you do not live the trife life
you just one, two check, my mic’s right
bk -ss-ssin, aiming and blasting
making sure their careers won’t be lasting
my bean-town homies getting that green
and you can catch me road wild spitting that mean
[hook]
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