Make It Loud (Cena John)

It's the joint baby, GOTTA MAKE IT LOUD SO LET ME HEAR SOME NOISE FROM THE CROWD That's noise! It's the joint baby, gotta make it loud Get the point yo you gotat make it loud Everybody in the club make it loud SO LET ME HEAR SOME NOISE FROM THE CROWD Yeah, yeah We came to kick the door down, it's time to hit the floor now Yo... we got some shit in store now So; clap your hands while we let the sax blow Not quite Krispy Kreme, but we came to stack dough We ain't maxed yo, we just try and get this money right Bills made of Spandex, I still keep my money tight Never stoppin, all I see is the money like the kid on the mic is too +Raw+ for your Monday night If you got in free, or your fuckin cover's paid Bounce to this motherfucker like you was some Rubbermaid This ain't that Cristal sippin type shit It's that bottle breakin, startin riot type shit So jump up and down 'til ya break the floor Yo we keep it underground like a basement tour East coast reppin, stretchin out to L.A. Not double oh seven but we +Die Another Day+, what I tear up any track, front to back Like Roy Jones takin on fifty year-old cats makin comebacks, where you at, cats spit soft shit like whispers and gloves, I'm not hearin that It's all love maybe if you wanna rub baby Anything but that, step back lady Trademarc, John Cena, clubbin it up We got Chaos on the one and two, cuttin it up I'm all about laid back, don't jock, I hate that I see through haters games, don't mistake that I still got love if you buyin our shit If you claim you hatin us, but you ridin our dicks Everybody hear the name, Marc Predka It's gonna ring like an echo for years, I never left ya All y'all raise your glass to this shit Cause Trademarc's the head of the class of misfits We steal your top spot, and you not gettin your number back Chop down competition like I was a lumberjack Clear out the club floor, we keep 'em comin back Tough to bring down like an overweight runningback Yeah - and we blaze 'em baby Trademarc, John Cena, we amazin baby Yo we tear up any crew, leave a motherfucker worn Y'all are just soft like some Cinemax porn I move a crowd like a bomb scare Grab the mic when we hittin it right, if you want fear Some say Trademarc, he ain't all there We old school like when Sonny, was on Cher Take it back like a Richard Pyror 8-track And grab a chunk of your change like a state tax Man please, we want platinum plaques I want cream, green, cheddar cheese, to grab in stacks "Chaos on the one and two, cuttin it up" "That's that shit!" "Ce-na, Ce-na, Ce-na" [at the end]