Lyrics:
your crib
Sisters tell you quick, "You better check your homie"
Bitches don't give a fuck, they wanna check for your homie
Sisters love Jay 'cause
Bitches don't give a fuck
They wanna check for your homie
Sisters love Jay 'cause they know how Hov' is
I love my sisters, I don't love no bitch
2
like boilin' water, I'll come back wit cane
[Jay-Z]
Keep it raw and uncut for all the bitches and hoes
The first time you sniff it
It might hurt
Grammar
Jay-Z, a little James Dean
And if your momma don't care about it
We're gonna get home when we get home
And if your momma don't care about it
[Jay-Z]
This one for the future
Everybody want to be a Roc-a-fella gangsta
Hard for the street, sicka for the club
Sometimes for the ladies, but
[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-Z
ch-ch-ch-ch-chopper
Sister, brother, son, daughter, father, motherfuck a copper
Got the Maserati dancin' on the bridge, pussy poppin'
Tell the coppers, "Ha-ha-ha-ha"
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
reloaded) go bring Jay-Z
(Tell them him I'ma ghostwrite for him) on Dre's beats
Ran in the ladies' room naked in a blanket
At the banquet and started
award me with hoes
Put em on a track like vocals
Leave em for a day and they want their
Master back like the first album by Jay
I dash with the dividends
Jay-Z and short dog at these hoes again
The kinda niggas that'll take a square bitch around the corner
Put this pimp game on her
I don't fuck with
a pre---nup
Now ask yourself this question, umm
Would you be with Jay-Z if he wasn't C-E-O
Would you be with F-A-B-O if he drove a Neo
Would you ride with
puttin' up Will Smith numbers
Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us
Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us
It started from hunger, 'til
Understand? But it's how I retaliate which
Defines who I am
Jay-Z, ain't nothing dead or alive playing me
I take beef to the grave
That's how my momma raised me
bitches, or Im rolling with pimps
Brook-laan to Oakland, I keep smokin'
Jay-Z and short dog at these hoes again
The kinda niggas that'll take a square bitch
ch-ch-ch-ch-chopper
Sister, brother, son, daughter, father, motherfuck a copper
Got the Maserati dancin' on the bridge, pussy poppin'
Tell the coppers, "Ha-ha-ha-ha"
the mic I always set trends
Either you see with bitches, or Im rolling with pimps
Brook-laan to Oakland, I keep smokin'
Jay-Z and short dog at these hoes
puttin' up Will Smith numbers
Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us
Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us
It started from hunger, 'til
bitches better get it right (yeah)
From the crap tables down in A.C.
Back on the block, Jay-Z motherfucker from the, the, the Roc
Went solo on that ass
[Jay-Z]
Yeh, it's that knock right here
You fuck around not have the right speakers in your system
Your shit be soundin like this {*funny sounds*}
of vice grips
I don't pay niggas, niggas pay me
(I'm a hustler baby) like Jay-Z
It's the diamond princess million dollar mistress
From the M-I home
And don't snitch
It sure will do a lot for you
Believe that baby
Jay-z, Short Dawg's in the house main
You know I got it
Got it goin on
We got the money
time to build, it's time to build
It's time to build, it's time to build
It's time to build, this is time to build
[Verse 3: Jay-Z]
Yeah, fresh
I'm super lazy, hella Jay Z
But not Jay Z, I meant jaded, I'm faded
I be smokin' mad cigarettes
Uh, I'm in a jet, I got a jetpack
I'm super Black like
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