Lyrics:
Brownsville
Niggas wit me! New York in this bitch
ATL in this motherfucker!
Dirty South let's ride on it!
There they go my nigga let's get em!
There they go my
Bus-a-Bus up in the cut, but you don't hear me though
Just when you think we done we hit y'all, we got plenty mo'
Blow!
[Rah Digga]
It be's the little
JAY-Z:
No more reasonable doubt I'm provin to be da illest MC somthing wrong wit ya
Motor skills cause y'all ain't movin me I'm who you see musically
with 'em
Oh I ain't goin' play wit'cha, I ain't goin' play wit'cha man!
Ha ha ha, I need y'all to sing children
Sing, I like it when the children sing
I ain't thinkin' that I ain't gon' feel it, yeah (feel it)
All these drugs hit right in my system (hey, no way)
Yeah, I just put the matte black by
what
Price right, be that song, the right type
But only if Havoc and P spittin' wit' me
And they say they gon' see that C.B. nice wit' it
Hinnesy
the cheese, tear your boom up
Spread a ill rumor, make you flip on Lil' Cease
Twist you backwards, get the dough from your platinum hits
Rock Lil' Kim hats
and rock icy things
She tried to get that score
By throwing the pussy begging me to hit that raw (uh oh)
We puts it on and watch bitches getting' a getsy
niggas sitting on top their roofs
Hurricane Katrina, we should've called it Hurricane (Georgia) Bush
Then they telling y'all lies on the news
The white
away,
Cuddled wit an Ivy toilet,
But I'm back now,
Commits to get it on,
Not spoil it,
I'm Drink-A-Lot,
Take a jug of sumpthin' big an do my
understand what it means to be black?
I have my man the Notorious B.I.G in the back
I go by the name of the Puff Daddy
But check this shit out
Four, five
Tryna find his outlet, coulda been an outlaw
Lil Wayne wasn't out yet, inspried by DMX
Inspired my first rhyme, glad to find a 49
I hadn't struck a gold
call it
[Pimp C]
Grippin' grain, switchin' lanes, sellin' cocaine outta' candy thang
Jammin' Lil' Wayne, gotta trunk of bang, 'cause I'ma "Hot Boy",
So yes, yes, y'all (yes, y'all, y'all)
You know we never stop we never rest, y'all (rest, y'all, y'all)
The Black Eyed Peas'll keep it funky fresh,
get wild wit me,
its involved wit green nigga bother p,
56 million like tha lottery,
from the shore to hardy to MTV,
how many patnas do you see
man and them stay pretty but I'ma stay shitty
Cruddy, it's all for the money, is you wit' me?
Get the bitches, and I'll commit the crime (uh-huh)
gotta know baby
Where in the hell did he get that shirt?
Aww here we go again, yeah that's right
Nigga what da fuck is wrong wit you?
Yeah man ya'll
got the candy on the whips and the bike, nigga
[Chorus: x2]
[Lil Wayne]
Started wit' some hubbers, twelve years old
Man, I swear to God I was
call it
[Pimp C]
Grippin' grain, switchin' lanes, sellin' cocaine outta' candy thang
Jammin' Lil' Wayne, gotta trunk of bang, 'cause I'ma "Hot Boy",
across
Money do somersaults, Bentley on young adults
Stuntin' on them hoes, it ain't me, its the money folk
Still make it rain, get struck by a money
the hood, still'll catch me a fade (catch me a fade, fade)
What's crackin', lil nigga? Let's get us a fade
Fuck all that bullshit, I went back to get it
I
wait to get to y'all
A genie is blasphemous, anthraxous
And who makes money, cleaning money
Through taxes?
You can catch me in the back of the club
Wit
to me
Motherfucker shoulda never said bye to me
Now you cry for me, like Jodeci
It's like that y'all, my nigga hit another bitch from the back y'all
Black
me, and my motherfuckin' dawg
He ain't trippin', I ain't trippin', but y'all niggaz still dissin'
To me, some of these suckers will never get it
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