Lyrics:
out the ride
Got a loaded .45 inside
That I keep for protection when I'm riding by
My Smith & Wesson got a scope too
And I may have caught a body
motherfucking gangstas
My Crips my Bloods my folks, thugs
Whatever the fuck, you wanna call it
We gon get this bitch wired up
Get to slapping the shit, out
featuring Teflon and Jay Z
Lil' Fame:
Seventy five
Raised on a strip called here brotha hill
Where guns pop and cops get
All I need is one mic, two 22's, three 80's
Four play five mama's of my babies
Six 100 Mercedes
Seven summers locking the game like Jay-Z
Eight
the sound of this
Guy on stand by jay-Z's half the reason why
Poor poets are held at bay
Lyrics sharp as a ginsu for you
And other people to sway
Back
Bowl that was legendary
Dr. Dre, Snoop, Em, 50, Kendrick and Mary (salute)
Hip-Hop lit they gon talk about that shit forever
Shout out to Jay-Z, he
here
To give y’all the truth
Jay Z, call me
Bruh! You still ain’t calling me! Jay
Z, call me! Aye, bruh, I
Know you got killers
Please don’t send them
night
Verse One, Jay-Z:
To the top wit my niggas
Pop wit my niggas
Drive by in whips, rock rocks wit my niggas
Break day on the hottest block wit my
down memory lane.
Boy it's a loony where the grass is greener
(1 8 7 ain't shit but a misdemeanor).
I've seen a lot of niggas come up, but few
wouldn't show out?
Man I'mma take over like Jay-Z
I'mma rock out
Grab your Slurpee and popcorn
I'm bout to make it hot for 'em
They didn't even invite me
and mortages on houses)
We straight banksta'z (we add and multiply cash by the thousands)
[Prodigal Sunzini]
We bank up with money bags and bring trucks
in a Mercedes
But that don't make your basic ass Beyonce or Jay-Z
What's happenin'? Obama 'bout to move out the White House
What's happenin'? Couple
shit, I make the rules that I live by
In and out the house, late at night, and plus I got high
The homies influenced me to be the G of all G's
Don't you never forget, Jigga got this shit poppin'
I pulled out the pot when we was outta options
Gangsta no live in a tenement yard
Rude boy no
a place where very few do something amazing
I would have less fun and more inspiration
Til me and Jay Z where on a first name basis
Peace out is how I greet
[Operator]
Too Black Records
[James A. Smith]
Yeah, this is Jay
[Operator]
Hold on, Jay
[Too Black Records Representative]
Hey Jay, long
[Intro / Chorus: 50 Cent]
Yeah.. I know you don't love me, I know you don't love me
You ain't the same when Jay-Z's around
I know you don't love me,
[Intro / Chorus: 50 Cent]
Yeah.. I know you don't love me, I know you don't love me
You ain't the same when Jay-Z's around
I know you don't love me,
a pig then you can't be no friend of me
See it's been 33 years since Fred been gone
He was murdered on the same day Jay-Z was born, for real
12-4-69, same
What the fuck are they trolling it for
It's a gangsta shit parade
Nobody wants a winner
But everybody wanted to be on top
I saw my friend getting smacked
is what you make of it
And I'm makin' a lot of it
See that's a quadruple entendre
Jay Z eat your heart out
Joell Ortiz, Brooklyn, New York
But
Love that shit rep, that shit gon' ffff, ffff
Niggas bout not play by my name, shit ain't sweet
He texting bout them booze, we ran that shit up all week
swang Ro swell
Eyebrows and jaws, so in my presence Mr. don't tell
I'm a motherfucking murderer, you the wanksta
Popping that gangsta shit
You know what the fuck time it is
I was seventeen, flexing with a AP (huh?)
Bitch, I had the blueprint, no Jay-Z (what?)
Pull up in a 'Rari like
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