Lyrics:
I over shine, ain't no niggas over Sean
Toll rollin by the quarter so I guess we're going overtime.
'Til we're Dumb high, dumb high
Westside, bitch
After you, your man'll get scarred next
And if your squad flex
I'm lettin' off like Bernard Goetz
A TEC-9 is my utensil
Fillin' niggas with so much lead
everybody's in a struggle
Oh, the whole world is a ghetto
Oh, the whole world is a ghetto
The ghetto, the ghetto, the ghetto
The, the, the, the
It be
turned 'em into hoes
Dreams stopped being dreams when I turned 'em into goals
BIG was the first one that had it
Then I saw Nas' chain, man, that was
to Jay and K, like man
Never took a L but brought Em out there, from where it's hard to make it this far when you this tan
I'm sayin' I'm Lil B with
bench I'm a starter
I could dunk on em Vince Carter
Ion do light tricks side kicks man I rarely get to chill wit my partner
Drive by myself
I don't like
If I had a dollar for every time these niggas hate, I'd be rich like Jay and Ye
I got rich with Babyface, we came up just making plays (yeah)
Man, I
rocks like Colorado
Waddle off the champagne
Cristals by the bottle
It's a damn shame what you're not though (me)
Slick like a gato, ya boy Jay-Z
My pops
man, dope man
I try to tell em I'm where hope, floats man
Ghetto spokes-man
Jay-Z is taking the stand
Right hand on the Bible, left hand in
Man
Im like NAV but better
Im Pri Cho but better
MIA but better
Im like Jay Sean but better
She like to wear Gucci but better
Got your girl but wetter
that "B" shit
By the way, I love free shit
But nothing in life is free
Not even free shit
Anyway
I'm in Miami, man, I'm prolly in the shade
Since my hair
[Jay-Z]
Turn the lights even lower!
Hova
Memphis Bleek
Beanie Seigel
Roc-a-fella y'all
[DMX]
Jigga, my nigga, rhyme all night
[Jay
Wanted to be an artist i
Was of course inspired
By Debbie Harry and Chrissie
Hynde and Aretha Franklin
But my real muse was David
Bowie he embodied male
the dead still sing
And we can celebrate by
Dancing in the streets
Your music, your legacy, rest in beats
I'm sick of this scenario, man
I'm buggin' out
So
Uh, GOOD Music, this our year
Backing drums by DJ Premier
Now let me count it down
Who the fuck up in here
Common, Don, Old G, battle rap, oh
That
You belong to the city
You belong to the night
In the river of darkness
He's a man of the night
Yeah
What the deal playboy, just rest your
toe straps, but sg talk to em!
[Sean Garrett]
I gotta whole bunch of girls I'm tryin' to bring by their kryptonite,
Betta wear your cake, cause
of thirty-eight slugs
Some other niggaz stepped out y'all
Aww shit, I had to make a phone call
Hello?
Hay Jay
Whassup?
I'm in a little trouble man
Blowin' Sean Jay, all we do is smoke
Finish countin' my bread, and I was gettin' some head
Whassup?
[Chorus]
[Ludacris]
I'm a be all the way
A corporate thug I run with a Playaz Circle
I got a Field Mob that'll disturb your peace
Blowin' Sean Jay, all we do is smoke
Finish countin' my bread,
taught by brothers and sisters who knows what it means
To be a black child or a white teen
In the end the youth is being mistreated
Which means the world
[Operator]
Too Black Records
[James A. Smith]
Yeah, this is Jay
[Operator]
Hold on, Jay
[Too Black Records Representative]
Hey Jay, long
basically (do you want me to do it?)
Hold up, skip all the singin' lets go ride tonight, mami (Come on now...Uhhh)
[Jay-Z]
I know my English ain't as modest
search fi di sign, several time
When we go suh it ain't no crime
Sean de Paul 'longside Mýa
Bloaw, bloaw
I've done some stupid shit
I've even lied
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