Lyrics:
and you fry in my iron furnace
I am on my get rich or die tryin' like when Em was signin' Curtis
'Cause I am murderous
Joe Budden, Jersey City, New
qu\\\'un match à Chelsea
devant le clip de JAY.Z pire qu\\\'un match à Chelsea
Faut qu\\\'on mouille le jersey moite comme un club jazzy
Faut qu\\\'on
on the street, you got laid off
You're over nineteen years old, why'd you jerk off?
I'm from New Jersey, I can tell you's a jerk-off
Help me, help me, help me I'm
-I-Z-the-emmaza-emmaza-A-are-K-I
I said yes can I have the number to your home
Are you allowed to call Jersey on your phone?
She chuckled we exchanged, I went home joked about it
need me a loft
We from Harlem we a lil' more conceited than y'all
Grand Theft Auto if I needed a car
Understand me
New Jersey Drive shit
Since Children
They knew that they found freedom just across the Jersey line
So they hopped into a stolen car, took Highway 99
And the walls came down
All the way
the release!”
& I always keep em in perfect condition like I got a car on a lease
I got a car in the driveway, & I got a car on my feet
Bitch I got kicks,
They think that they know, something 'bout my life
Not in the same class, not on the same flight
Maybe the same club, just not the same lights
was too lazy
School made me sick, teachers said I was too crazy
Low and behold, it's the new and improved Jay-Z
Let me explain this to you baby
I
a bad bitch run, uh
I just bought a new AP (AP)
'Bout to get the bad bitch one (Yeah)
Nigga like the new Jay-Z (Woo)
Pockets on fat, Big Pun (Big bag)
call me
Zz zzz z zz z
Zz zaa
Yung Quinc mi have the zig zawyer
Because
New gyal me get its a just a new gyal mi get
Me
Me bawl
New gyal me get its just
New Era can see
No cap, i know that life a bitch but
They ain't prepared for me
See, before Love & Hip Hop I
Got love in hip hop
Mona Scott should
Throw the hands up (boasters)
Throw the hands up (Mac)
You know how Mac come through on the club tip
Everybody real deep on that thug shit
Cop Cris'
Haters nigga, Sqad Up nigga
Fuck JAY-Z, nah my nigga, I
Fucks wit' JAY-Z, sorry
You know what I'm sayin'?
Fuck JAY-Z, no no no, I
Fucks wit'
Y Te Llamo weak
Choco vato see
Now that’s chicano speak
But New Jersey is where Samad gotta be
Honestly ain’t nobody stopping me
I could beat like
[rah digga]
Yeh, check it out now (uhh uhh uhh)
Rah digga y'all, dirty harriet (uhh!)
Kweli, xzibit, new millennium! (c'mon, check it)
[all] one,
a Mitchell and Ness
Get some holes in yo jersey for that
And I know it ain't luck
New pack is loud as a fuck
I ain't even rolling it up
That shit in 3 bags
a Philadelphia boy
Tell these people how you moved out and
You a New Jersey resident boy
Them OG's on the block
Are like Japanese chefs
Cause soon as they smell
to the T-O-P
Then I will be D-O-N with the E
I rock New Jersey and N.Y.C.
Whether it's at a club or a block party
To my man Capri, Starchild and Brucie Bee
They knew that they found freedom just across the Jersey Line
So they hopped into a stolen car took Highway 99
And the walls came down, all the way
my car Lexus Maan!! I 'bout to wreck it
It's dat Moe-torola South'z a money folda
Man I told ya befo' my ?(Maan!!) a dime holda
In a drain man million
[Chorus: R. Kelly]
To all my players and my thugs, to the all the honeys in the club
To all the hoods that show me love, we ride, we ride
To all my
and pineapple, pour it in
Got it flowing like the levee in New Orleans
Out the club to my car, ladies all in
Going up in iHop in the morning
Women love Red,
7 off
Snow so white only thing missing is 7 dwarfs
Killa Cam: you know he bout it, bout it
Jim Jones: you know he bout it, bout it
Freeky Z: you know
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