Stop! It's the motherfucking remix!

Uhh! Yeah, Harlem is back (TS) Who in the world want a problem with that? (fo' real) I heard Harlem is back (You know we had to do the remix) Who in the world want a problem with that? (Yeah! Eminem nigga!) Uhh! Yeah, Harlem is back (Lil Jon nigga!) Who in the world want a problem with that? (Mason Betha!) I heard Harlem is back (Fat Joe!) Who in the world want a problem with that? (Let's go!)

Said my niggas don't dance We just pull up our pants and do the rockaway Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back Said my niggas don't dance We just pull up our pants and do the rockaway Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back

You know it's deja vu, and the day y'all do It'll be the day y'all bleed Wrist minus 80 degrees King of Harlem ain't nobody made me leave Who else could take 5 years off? Cold turkey? Come back and fly lears off Cats front leave them leaning like Smirnoff If haters wanna hate then its their loss Come up in the Rucker with all my Jake's on Car grills so big you can cook a steak on People hear Mase call them wanna get their mase on You hot 16, I'm a very great song They beating on the DJ booth 'fore the Mase song You play Clark Kent, you better have your cape on Plenty homes Mansion many rooms My necklace, 2Xs and three Bentley bulls Lean back, Lean back, Lean back 'Cause he's back come on Lean back, Lean back, Lean back 'Cause he's back come on

Eminem, what's up! Hey!

You don't want no problems with Harlem You don't want no problems with the boogie-down Bronxster You don't want no drama with the blonde bomber Original Don Dada of the blonde bottle The model from White America Then Joe, the spokesperson for the Latino Then we got Mase back to re-per-e-sent E-ver-y-thing else in between Including the percentages of the rest we don't The best from each coast, the midwest to the dirty-dirty Even further to Miami, all the way back to Californ-i-a It'd probably be best right now if I warn Dre To get on the horn and tell 'im about the storm coming all our way So tell a pal, grab a gal right now, get on the floor while I wait Shake that ass a little more my way, but baby, I don't dance Not that I can't, there's a pistol in my pants, come on

Said my niggas don't dance We just pull up our pants and do the rockaway Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back, come on Said my niggas don't dance We just pull up our pants and do the rockaway Now lean back, lean back, lean back, lean back

Ayo, Remy pop but I'm hot like an out of state spot And anybody think I'm not, you're found in a vacant lot You don't really wanna run with the one chick Who smoke dutchess for lunches Da castle hill, I ain't luncheon Now, it's on it for the Terror Squad, Pun, Prospect Sunshine, Geddy, Crack and Remy Ma It's not a chick in the game want it My 16 so mean, put 20 G's and my chain on it Quick to flip, I ain't thea average chick I'm packin' a Mac in the back of the forty-five past six And you know, I got enough goons to crush a country Any dude disrespectin' Pun, he better play then run C Bring your mans and then we handle him Then we gon' Timbaland trample 'em Then we pull the cats in them Lean back 'cause I ain't never worry See, I'm forever glory, smackin' up any chick in my territory

Said my niggas don't dance We just pull up our pants and do the rockaway Now lean back, lean back Lean back, lean back Said my niggas don't dance We just pull up our pants and do the rockaway Now lean back, lean back Lean back, lean back Come on

No Judas or cowardice or Cain's brother Abel is able to stop me, nigga, not me! Got the streets asking "Damn, who can top P?" Summer Jam? Killed it, man, I did it all with one beat I guess I'm bi-coastal now Took a down south brother to bring your boy out (What?!) As the wheel keeps spinning I can hear niggas thinking, "Crack got one hit, then he out" Nope! Joey bring them semi's out Force you and yours to pour a little Henny out So much rappers acting in the game I had to tell them put the mic away And run and get your Emmy's out Lean back, motherfuckers This here's a three-peat, we back at the Rucker It's Cook Coke Crack, preach it to ya, brother The Mike Moore rap and preach you motherfuckers

Said my niggas don't dance We just pull up our pants and do the rockaway Now lean back, lean back Lean back, lean back Said my niggas don't dance We just pull up our pants and do the rockaway Now lean back, lean back Lean back, lean back Come on

Said my niggas don't dance we just pull out our gats And say blow your back away, fuck nigga Lean back, lean back Lean back, lean back I said my niggas don't dance we just pull out our gats And say blow your back away, bitch nigga Lean back, lean back Lean back, lean back HEY!