Lyrics:
nothin but sit back and drop hits, ya heard me?
I ain't nothin but a thug that got rich ya heard me
Drop the top when it's hot
If not call Jay tell him
other New York rappers
Jay-Z of Hawaiian Soapy fame, Big Little whatever
And several other corny sounding motherf***ers
are understandably shaken up by
Until she started sniffing P
Streets love me but I’m hated by the MPD
Multimillion dreams but I have
Nightmares of the F-E-D's (God damn)
Lord please have
Jay-Z
I ain't got time no mo'
I ball with the shots I call
Stand tall when I take my fall
I know it ain't nothin' at all
I ain't even got time no mo'
Ok
This is a story of a boy named Jay he was down on his luck his family lived in the ghetto just trynna get a few bucks It seemed like almost everyday
to my jay z yea
First you gotta love me with no safety yea
She just wanna facetime
Every time she call my phone you know I make time
If she call me when
after all
What are you?
Like a cross between Jay-Z and Sean Paul?
You're better off with the name you was born
You little pansy you really should have
don't have it all upstairs
But who the fuck cares?!
I'm grabbin' brews, takin' fast swiggas
I get cash and stash figures
And harass them bitch-ass niggas
I'm coming through, got paper, gotta have it
Under my damn bed
Man I'm flipping red
If I get caught with keys, I'm going fed
But that ain't on my mind
I'm coming through, got paper, gotta have it
Under my damn bed
Man I'm flipping red
If I get caught with keys, I'm going fed
But that ain't on my mind
still after me, brrt, brrt, brrt
See, I was payin' homage to Hov, I could never diss JAY-Z
Y'all know me better than that, I got real street beefs
I gotta make it to Heaven, for goin' through Hell
Gotta make it to Heaven, gotta make it to Heaven
I gotta make it to Heaven, for goin' through
I gotta make it to Heaven, for goin' through Hell
Gotta make it to Heaven, gotta make it to Heaven
I gotta make it to Heaven, for goin' through
now than to read about the outcome
I'd rather have the crown, than a ribbon or medallion
And oh my days, I guess it's okay
If I lay up in the shade
Fox Brown yeah, Jay-Z, what
I keep it fresher than the next, bitch
No need for you to ever sweat the next bitch
With speed, I make the best
Bitch see
believe aliens
Fake Shit
It's reality to haters
All I can do is cater
The rhymes that are later
Criticized
And minimized
By Fake Shit
Fake Shit
Why is
in bum daily
One wrong move and the niggas going crazy
I didn't have a dad so
These streets raised me
I got up and drew up in blue print no Jay-Z
I can
featuring Blake see Jay Z Mr. Bristal
[Blake C]
What you sayin'?
Roc A Fella (uh huh)
Gener al (uh huh)
B.I.G. (right on)
something every girl gotta have like Levi's
Chiquita, mi amor, see how raw
You can love me or hate me, either or
I'ma stay winning, rock the custom drop
I gotta make it to Heaven, for goin' through Hell
Gotta make it to Heaven, gotta make it to Heaven
I gotta make it to Heaven, for goin' through
Oh
Jay Sean (Jay Sean, Jay Sean)
2-0-1-2 (Nicki Minaj, Nicki Minaj)
Oh (yeah, yeah)
It's alright (let's go, let's go)
Oh, it's alright (let's
telling the story my youngin’s outside and they starting sum riots
Don’t have a fan base like Future or Drake or Lil baby but fuck it man I gotta speak
I
my ADs
Coast is Almafi
Boat it go brazy
Boy that go brazy
Hotter than AZ
Look like a nigga was raised by Jay-Z
They gotta listen
Eyes is amazement
They
+Every Day+, and was true nigga
[Beanie Sigel]
They can't question what we do Jigga.
[Jay-Z]
Once again it's on, Young run through you niggaz
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