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Jay-Z - Vol. 3... Life and Times of S. Carter Album Lyrics



Jay-Z - Vol. 3... Life and Times of S. Carter Lyrics






Hova Song (Intro)

Yeah, I know you just ripped the packaging off your CD
If you like me, you readin' the credits right now
If you in your car, I don't care if it's winter
I want you to put all your windows down
Zone out, buckle up, let's go

Hello it's Hova, that's right young'un, the wait is over
The new millennium is upon us, the album is here
Before we get into the shit, let's get a few things clear
Rappers with no relation
There's 'Seven Degrees of Separation' and I'm Kevin Bacon
This is the murderer's version
Jigga the shit, even when he rhyme in third person
Hova the God, I should be rappin' with the turban
Haters can't disturb him, waiters can't serve him
Mike Jordan of rap, outside J workin'
Now watch how quickly I drop 50
I don't like playin', niggas can't stick me
Niggas cannot jam me, niggas can't get me
Slimmy at the Rucka wanna leave and spend with me
I consistently take 'em out the park like Ken Griffey
Do you believe? It's Hova the God

Makes you think about the people in your life
Then I think about BIG, what'd he say if he was here
He'd say, "Jay, what's it about? What's life about?
If you don't go through as a man's a man"
He'd say, "Suck it up, take the fall, do the time
That's what makes you who you are, makes you what you are"
How many years you been around this thing of ours?
Commission, 125 years
What's it about?
It's about rules, parameters
You take the beatin' for the friend, you don't lay down
You don't betray who you are, what you are
You gotta remember guys like Taj, Chill, Ran, Emory
They don't roar, they don't rap
You know why? That's the rules, you don't break them
You was born to be somethin', I wasn't even supposed to be humble
Okay, so you humble me now, what you got?
You got a war, you got global war
You got a worldwide crime syndicate now
There's no rules, there's no parameters, there's no feelings
There's no feelings for this game
So five, ten years from now
You're gonna wish there was an American Commission
Five ten years from now
They're gonna miss Jay-Z
Okay, I'm reloaded
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Jimi Hendrix, Shawn C. Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




So Ghetto

[Jay-Z]
Back at'cha
How we do
Primo, Jigga-Man
History in the making
Let's go

Uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH
Uh-huh-uh-uhh, uhh
I spit the murder-murder-murderous
Mur-mur-ma-murderous SHIT
Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-UHH
I keep the gangsta-gangsta-gangsta
Gah-gah-ga-gangsta beat, feel me? Uhh
I spit that Brooklyn-Brooklyn-Brook
Uh-uhh, uh-huh-uh-uhh, uh-uhh
Uh-huh-UHH

Yo.. career crook, nobody rap Brooklyn like me
Jigga-Man, Volume 3, I'm back lookin like me
Stop the presses, baby girls, drop your dresses
B-K lick a shot for Big Pop' in heaven
Ever since I came through, niggaz got the impression
everything I drop, out of the question, stop the guessin
it's hot, flows provin I pack cause my dough's movin
My whole crew up in this muh'f*cker
We spray corners, stand there like you got a cape on ya, fine
You'll be wearing a black suit a long time
I put your crew in hard bottoms
The priest is like, "God's got him
He never did nuttin to nobody but them boys shot him"
Brandish iron, outlandish buyin
Bentley Coupes, not braggin just simply the truth
We all from the ghetto, only difference, we go back
Back up in D&D on this Primo track, listen

[Chorus: Jay-Z] [scratching by DJ Premier]

I'm so gangsta prissy chicks don't wanna f*ck with me
"Iceberg, Slim baby ride rims"
I'm so gutter, ghetto girls fall in love with me
"You know him well.." "..by the name of Jigga"
I'm so gangsta prissy chicks don't wanna f*ck with me
"You can love me or hate me.." "..Jay-Z"
I'm so gutter, ghetto girls fall in love with me
"Roc-a-Fella lock the whole block down"

[Jay-Z]
Wednesday's I'm up in Shine, Cheetah's Monday night
I'm f*ckin with the model chicks Friday night at Life
So I'm cruisin in the car with this boozy broad
She said, "Jigga-Man you rich, take the doo-rag off"
Hit a U-turn; ma I'm droppin you back off
Front of the club, "Jigga why you do that for?"
Thug nigga til the end, tell a friend bitch
Won't change for no paper plus I been rich
Eighty-eight been hustlin, linen been crushin em
Women been f*ckin them HUH?
You see I live for the love of the street
Rap to the ruggedest beats
Hall closet cluttered with heat
I spit that murder-murder-murder
that Brook-Brook-a-Brooklyn shit
Furthermore ma..
We tote guns to the Grammy's, pop bottles on the White House lawn
Guess I'm just the same old Shawn

[Chorus]

[Jay-Z]
I'm from the M-to-the-A-baby-R-C-Y
So it's hard for me to let the larceny die
Niggaz see me in the streets with no bodyguards
just two big guns that'll body your squad
Could niggaz be scheamin on me? Probably are
Think Jigga's a joke nigga? Hardy har
I spit Brook-Brook-Brooklyn every time I bust
Radio's gotta play me though I cuss too much
Magazine said I'm shallow, I never learned to swim
Still they put me on they cover cause I earn for them
Soon as I sell too much, watch them turn on him
cause that seem to be the shit that'll earn for them
I spit that murder-murder-murderous everytime a verbalist
iller than Verbal Kint is or O-Dog in "Menace"
I'm ill, start to finish, I rip apart contenders
I'm hot.. hehehehe..

[Chorus]

[Jay-Z]
I'm so gangsta prissy chicks don't wanna f*ck with me, uhh
I'm so gutter, ghetto girls ..
Heheh, (uhh, uhh, uh-huh-uh-uhh), yeah
Uhh, yeah, funk, yeah, with me, yeah, beyotch, yeah
Jigga, yeah, Primo, yeah, gangsta, yeah, niggaz, yeah
Brooklyn, yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, STEPHEN LEE CROPPER, CHRISTOPHER E MARTIN, BUDDY MILES
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group




Do It Again (Put Ya Hands Up)

[ Featuring Beanie Sigel, Amil ]

Roc-a-fella
Y'all know what this is
We givin' y'all five seconds to put your drink down
And report to the dance floor immediately
All the bustas we givin y'all five seconds to get close to a exit
It's about to get real ugly in here
Five seconds is up, let's go!

Throw the hands up (uh, uh, uh)
Throw the hands up (niggas)
Throw the hands up (bitches)
Throw the hands up (bustas)
Throw the hands up (hustlers)
Throw the hands up (hoes)
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' spray the club on that thug shit
Cop frisks suits snub in the club quick
Told y'all real high, when I come you can try
If you want, you can die, if you want to

We hittin' whores on the floor, whole crew be wild
Bitch, back that ass up like Juvenile (huh)
When my peeps come to spend, a dime apiece
You know Mac come through with a line of freaks
Every bitch on the hit be a 9 at least
We gettin' head on the floor, while you grindin' freaks
Whole squad get it down like this
Whole squad buyin' rounds of Cris'
Whole squad got they crowns on wrist
Whole squad got a pound of twist
Whole squad got a pound to spit, in case a clown wanna flip
Mac never slip in the club
Told y'all niggas four-fifth in the club
If a nigga wanna draw then the blood it can drip in the club
You know how niggas get in the club
Shit you know how I be, all high in V-I-P
Rolling up to B-I-G
Niggas be all liquored up, talkin' shit
'Til they man gotta come and pick 'em up
Got bitches in the back bouncin' to "Jigga What"
You got your hands up and I ain't even stick y'all up

Throw the hands up
(Everybody get it up) throw the hands up

12 AM on the way to the club (uh)
1 AM DJ made it erupt (uh-huh)
2 AM now I'm gettin' with her (what up?)
3 AM now I'm splittin' with her (splittin' with who?)
4 AM at the Waffle House (Waffle House)
5 AM now we at my house (uh)
6 AM I be diggin' her out (who?)
6:15 I be kickin' her out (what?)
7 AM I'ma call my friends (uh-huh)
12AM we gon' do it again
We gon', we gon', we gon' do it again, let's go

Yo, how the f*ck you gon' talk about MC's on our heel?
When we just cop them things homie the chromey wheels
Both arms are chunky the sleeves on chill
Any given times a hundred G's in your grill
Don't talk to me 'bout MC's got skills
"He's alright, but he's not real"
Jay-Z's that deal, with seeds in a field
Never fear for war, hug, squeeze that steel
F*ck, you got a flow, that's cool with me
You got a little dough, that cool with me
You got a little cars, little jewelries
But none of y'all motherf*ckers could fool with me
You know the wrist frostbit minus two degrees
'Bout as blue as the sea the way I maneuver the V
Hat cocked can't see his eyes, who could it be?
With that new blue Yankee on, who but me?
Niggas shipped two million, then I blew the three
Then I skated the four, 'fore I went on tour
I came back and it's plain, y'all niggas ain't rappin' the same
F*ck the flow, y'all jackin' our slang
I seen the same shit happen to Kane
Three cuts in your eyebrows tryin' to wild out
The game is ours, we'll never foul out
Y'all just better hope we gracefully bow out
Throw yo' hands up, niggas, bitches, bustas
Hustlers, f*ck that (throw the hands up)
Come on

12 AM on the way to the club (uh huh)
1 AM bout to shake the butt (uh)
2 AM now I'm checkin' the mix (ah yeah)
3 AM now he buyin' me drinks (what you drinkin' on?)
4 AM exit the club (let's go)
5 AM think he gettin' some butt (that's right)
6 AM nigga still ain't bust (what?)
6:15 nigga will get up (uh)
7 AM gotta tell my friends (uh-huh)
12 AM I'ma do it again, uh, uh
I'ma do it again
12 AM I'ma do it again
Uh-huh, uh, uh, let's go

12 AM on the way to the club
1 AM DJ made it a rub
2 AM now I'm gettin' with her
3 AM now I'm splittin' with her
4 AM at the waffle house
5 AM now we at my house
6 AM I be diggin' her out
6:15 I be kickin' her out
7 AM I'ma call my friends
12 AM we gon' do it again
We gon', we gon', we gon' do it again
Let's go
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dwight Grant, Kyambo Joshua, Dana Stinson, Shawn Corey Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Dope Man

[sound of a camera taking a picture]

[Jay] Millenium flow
[MTV] Serena Altschul's here live outside the criminal courthouse
[Jay] This is {bullshit} y'all
[MTV] in New York City for the first day in the trial of
[Jay] I'm gone {*car speeds off*}
[MTV] the State vs. Shawn Carter, a.k.a. Jay-Z
[Jay] Uhh, uh-huh-uh, uhh, uh-huh-uh, uhh
[MTV] Whatever the verdict in this trial may be
the effects will undoubtedly be felt worldwide

[Jay-Z]
Aiyyo, stand forward, 'fore you take notice
or witness to me killin the track
Testify 'til me spillin the smack
Now they got me for traffickin, racketeerin, audio crack
[Hook:] They call me Dope Man, Dope Man
I try to tell em I'm where hope, floats man
Ghetto spokes-man
A broke man, approachin the bench with intent
to bury me under the cell, fingered me as the toast man
Evidence stemmin from ninety-six
They say the world ain't recovered from his fix
While they was usin cut I was on some other shit
Gave it to you raw and they just discovered it
Nowaday, the jury got they brow raised
Listenin to testimony about my foul ways
Exhibit A: "Reasonable Doubt"
They say this was the first thing that turned the peoples out

[MTV] You can feel the tension building here
as an unprecedented number of people have turned out
for what may be the "Trial of the Century"
[Hook]

[Jay-Z]
How come, you label your brand of dope
"Volume 1" and spread it through the slums?
Fed it to the young with total disregard
Your honor, the State seeks the maximum charge
And how could you, turn right around
and release a lethal dosage called "Volume 2"
And is true you operate the criminal enterprise
known as Roc-a-Fella in charge of his meteoric rise?
And do you deny you're responsible for the demise
of record execs, and do you object?
Your distribution's Polygram, and through your connects
Def Jam, you pushed over five million SoundScan
And not to mention, your co-horts and henchmen
Dame, Biggs, Lyor, Kev' and Russell Simmons
And we ain't gon' talk about Murder, Inc.
That just establishes a darker deeper criminal link

[MTV The State is seeking the maximum penalty
and with the overwhelming amount of evidence
the D.A.'s presented, things aren't looking good
[Hook]
[MTV] Despite the grim outlook at this point
the rapper has been known to emerge triumphant
in the face of adversity
[Hook]
[MTV] Jay-Z is taking the stand

[Jay-Z]
Right hand on the Bible, left hand in the air
Before I spoke one word, made sure my throat was clear
A-hem, I'm a prisoner of circumstance
Frail nigga, I couldn't much work with my hands
But my mind was strong, I grew where you hold your blacks up
Trap us, expect us not to pick gats up
Where you drop your cracks off by the Mack trucks
Destroy our dreams of lawyers and actors
Keep us spiralin, goin backwards
At age nine, saw my first hate crime
Blindfolded, expected to walk a straight line
Mind molded, taught to love you and hate mine
Climbed over it, at a early age, Jay shined
F*ck the system at Lady Justice I blaze nine
Your Honor, I no longer kill my people, I raise mine
The soul of Mumia in this modern day time

[MTV] While the jury is inside deliberating
outside the crowd is frozen with anticipation
[Hook]
[MTV] Well the verdict has just been announced: NOT GUILTY!
It is complete pandemonium out here! [Hook; Serena keeps speaking]
People are cheering and hugging - there he is
Jay-Z is exiting the courtroom right now
There is a swarm of cameras surrounding him [pop bulbs flashing]
and people are just rushing up to him
Let's try and make our way over there, Jay-Z! Jay-Z!
[sounds of cameras keep flashing, music fades]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DARRELL BRANCH, SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, KEN IFILL, ERNESTO SHAW
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.




Things That U Do

[ Featuring Mariah Carey ]

[Jay-Z]
Uh-huh, uh
Jigga man, uh-huh MC
That's right
Swizz Beatz
Uh, uh, come on

[Mariah (Jay-Z)]
It's the things that you do
That make me feel so...
(Come on, inhale, exhale, breathe on it for me)
And I don't know the way I feel
I can explain
(Uh)
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
(Bounce, bounce)
It's the things that you do
That make me feel so..
(Exhale breathe on it for me)
And I don't know the way I feel
I can explain (Yeah)
I love you
(Uh come on)
You thug look at what you make the clubs do

[Jay-Z]
You know the flow sicka, know Jigga, mo' sicka now right
You know what me and Swizz's shit sound like
Crazed and demonic, uh without blazin chronic
Product of Reaganomics
You know that motherf*ckin stoop raised me
Ringin in da hoops but I 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 spent nights out, days in
Niggaz was blazing, twelve noon where I was raised in
I felt caged in but kept roaming
Prayed for the Day of Atonement
Married to the streets no date of annulment
It seems every time it comes up
They postpone it
So I kept my chrome at the waist
Waiting for the omen
Savoring the moment and now you know
The reason that I flow the way I flow baby

[Mariah (Jay-Z)]
It's the things that you do
(Uh, inhale, exhale, breathe on it)
That make me feel so..
And I don't know the way I feel
I can explains
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
(Bounce, shake, bounce, shake)
It's the things that you do
That make me feel so..
(Uh, exhale, breathe on it for me)
And I don't know the way I feel I can explain (Uh)
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
(Drop, bounce, yo)

[Jay-Z]
You know I move like an ounce
Bottled up like crack
That's how I make you bounce like that
Defy Webster's words they can't pronounce like that
That's why no other rapper got a sound like that
Trap, trap of my life
Flashback, kill niggaz
Rap skills unmatched, Jigga man baby
I can't entertain it sometimes I can't explain it
God given, gifts of a soul for hard living
Far be it from me to question Allah's wisdom
Could've been lost in the system
Instead I'm involved with the rhythm
I dodged prison, came out unscathed from car collisions
I know I must be part of some mission
Shit I used take it for granted
Why they placed me on this planet
I would ask myself while writin raps to myself
But right there under my nose
Was the flow of all flows
Not a demon but a rose in the cement, come on

[Mariah (Jay-Z)]
It's the things that you do
That make me feel so..
(Inhale, exhale, breathe on it MC)
And I don't know the way I feel
I can explain
(Uh)
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
(Bounce, shake, shake it, uh)
It's the things that you do
That make me feel so..
(Exhale, uh)
And I don't know the way I feel I can explain
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
(Lights out nigga)

[Jay-Z]
You know I've traveled through zones
Homes spazzed like a bad back
I came into this game on Jaz's back
I jumped off stood on my own two like boom, that's that
Yeah I'm here to show and prove
Don't matter to me the Garden or flowin on Clue
Whatever niggas wanna do - it's alright with me
Whether you big or bossy, jig or flossy
Dusty or musty, sober or saucy
Broker than Todd Bridges, richer than Bill Cosby
Forgive me for my arrogance or you still salty?
Past on to the next life and you still haunt me
I'mma keep doing me unfortunately
I make the club rock, make thugs pop guns
Make old folks do the bus stop; can't stop son
Shit I give you what's hot and what's not, I never knew
Y'all (niggas) know (niggas) how (niggas) do

[Mariah (Jay-Z)]
It's the things that you do that make me feel so..
(Uh, exhale, inhale)
And I don't know the way I feel
I can explain
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
(Uh, bounce, shake, what? uh-huh)
It's the things that you do that make me feel so..
(Uh-huh, inhale, exhale)
And I don't know the way I feel I can explain
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
(Bounce, shake ladies)
It's the things that you do that make me feel so..
(Uh-huh, breathe for me, uh, uh-huh)
And I don't know the way I feel
I can explain
(Uh)
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
(Lights out niggas)
It's the things that you do that make me feel so..
And I don't know the way I feel I can explain
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
It's the things that you do that make me feel so..
And I don't know the way I feel I can explain
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
It's the things that you do that make me feel so..
And I don't know the way I feel I can explain
I love you
You thug look at what you make the clubs do
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, KASSEEM DEAN, KYAMBO JOSHUA
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.




It's Hot (Some Like It Hot)

Can't stop it nigga, uh
Mm-hmm, uh-huh, can't stop that
Timbaland uh-huh, Jigga Man uh-huh
Yeah, Brook, Brook-Brooklyn huh?
That's right
Put your motherf*ckin hands together, uh-huh
Put your motherf*ckin hands together
Yo, can't stop it

Yo
Yo show closer, J-to-the-A-Y-Hovah
Place shutter down, who the f*ck'll f*ck around?
Game spitter, Range sitter, Bentley driver nigga
Keep a full clip I have to empty out on niggas
Hoe bagger, no slacker, get this shit jumpin
Like eight blacks, fo' crackers, get yo' ass jumped
Crist' sipper, six dipper, wrist glitter nigga
Gat buster, ass toucher.. clit licker
Go against Jigga yo' ass is dense
I'm about a dollar, what the f*ck is 50 Cents?
Hot shit, kick a nigga, turn these mics out
My jewelry so bright you can turn these lights out
Hovah's like Noah keep two in the truck
I'm like U-Haul, every bitch movin' I f*ck
You move slut, I gotta put two in your butt
I'm everything: the when's, why's, who's, and what
Nigga what?

Hell no you can't stop it, when it's hot it's hot
My grind, keep me jumpin out of drop to drop
My shine, lose your sight tryin to watch the watch
When there's drama Jigga pop, Jigga pop, pop
Hell no you can't stop it, when it's hot it's hot
My grind, keep me jumpin out of drop to drop
My shine, lose your sight tryin to watch the watch
When there's drama Jigga pop, Jigga pop, pop

Seperate myself from the lame, no you can't see me
I'm 6-0-0, you 300 C-E
Give my ladies dick, my young hoes pee-pee
Hits in a row like MJ, "Hee-hee!"
Since I was waist height, late night, bustin in the clouds
Runnin wild, comin home late, cussin out my mouth
Niggas said, "Bryan leave your cousin in the house"
Everytime we play the Dozen, he's buggin out
While y'all was playin yo-yo, I was sittin on low pros
Dippin the po-po, gettin that dough-dough
No, no I ain't stupid I take loot kid
What's in the bank? Shoot it
Lose it like I ain't do it
You wanna play Jigga nigga what you drank fluid?
Got a full tank now you wanna pull rank?
I clap still, act ill, Jigga shoot thee
Give you chest pains, leg sprains absolutely
What?

Hell no you can't stop it, when it's hot it's hot
My grind, keep me jumpin out of drop to drop
My shine, lose your sight tryin to watch the watch
When there's drama Jigga pop, Jigga pop, pop
Hell no you can't stop it, when it's hot it's hot
My grind, keep me jumpin out of drop to drop
My shine, lose your sight tryin to watch the watch
When there's drama Jigga pop, Jigga pop, pop

Thirty-eight revolve like the sun round the Earth
Try to play hard get you found round the dirt
Six shell casings found round your shirt
In surround sound from the hearse
Jigga Man, trigger man, hit your man up
Six shots, hit the pole, hit the van up
Kidnap grown folks get them grands up
Timbaland, hot shit, get them hands up

Hell no you can't stop it, when it's hot it's hot
My grind, keep me jumpin out of drop to drop
My shine, lose your sight tryin to watch the watch
When there's drama Jigga pop, Jigga pop, pop
Hell no you can't stop it, when it's hot it's hot
My grind, keep me jumpin out of drop to drop
My shine, lose your sight tryin to watch the watch
When there's drama Jigga pop, Jigga pop, pop
Hell no you can't stop it, when it's hot it's hot
My grind, keep me jumpin out of drop to drop
My shine, lose your sight tryin to watch the watch
When there's drama Jigga pop, Jigga pop, pop
Hell no you can't stop it, when it's hot it's hot
My grind, keep me jumpin out of drop to drop
My shine, lose your sight tryin to watch the watch
When there's drama Jigga pop, Jigga pop, pop
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Shawn Carter, William Pettaway, Timothy Mosley
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Snoopy Track

[ Featuring Juvenile ]

[Jay-Z]
Bounce
Uhhh, ha, uhhh, ha
Uhhh, uh-huh-uh-uhhh, uhh, uh-huh
This for my hustlers.. uh-huh
And for the bitches.. yeah

Yo, yo
This is for my niggaz down in Houston on candy paint
All my niggaz in the Dirty South, Miami mayne
All my niggaz in the A-T-L throwin dem bones
All them thugs that send slugs through your clothes; holla at me
It's for the black culture, Spanish chicks with the sweet chocha
Spanish cats with the ki's of cocoa
All the haters eat a dick they wanna see you brok-er
I hope the heat stroke ya, the misery is over
All my deep smokers, I hope the leaf choke ya
Hope you'll never be sober I'ma toast to myself
I hope the Crist' get me, spiralin into a tizzy
So pissy, swervin on the road dizzy
May God protect my soul, angels walk with me
First do the flow sickly, niggaz is so shifty
The fo'-fo' is like a force field, you won't get me
I brought some folk with me, Brooklyn is loc'n with me
What the f*ck?

[Chorus x2: Juvenile]

You know, we ride
All day, all night
Pop Crist, shoot dice
F*ck hoes, for life

[Jay-Z]
This is for my chicks that get dough for takin off they clothes
All them money makin honeys that slide down the poles
All my educated chicks who grade is 4.0
All the baby mamas across the globe; aiyyo
I like my women friends feminine
I like my hoes on "X" like Eminem.. shit!
I like em bow-legged, never coke-headed
With a dough fetish - the drive to go get it
I like they toes proper, I like they clothes Prada
I like they shoes Gucci, I like new coochie
I f*cked a few groupies, in a few hoopties
I got em iceberg shit they thought I knew Snoopy
I cop them Roc-a-Wear, my mamis dedicated
They never tell me no, the most they said is "not here"
I got they ears studded, both wrists baguetted
I got a main chick, a mistress, and a young bitch
Forget it I'm the don

[Chorus]

[Jay-Z]
Wha-What?
This is for my dice shooters, cats doin life
By the time I get this kite to ya, I hope you doin alright
Who got em platinum up? Who got the chicks in the truck?
Too much to sit comfortably, they lappin up
Who shit is big pimpin? See the flow different
I drop heavy then I let the four-fifth flip em
I keep rappers talkin to kids, Jigga "Sixth Sense-d" em
Don't mention my name and lames in the same sentence
You see I'm so thorough, take on your whole borough
Be so careful I hear the whistle from the fo'-fo' barrel
Keep the flow Hovah; icy neck, cold shoulder
Who click is closest to La Costra Nostra?
It's "The Roc"

[Chorus x1.5]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, TERUIS GRAY, TIMOTHY Z MOSLEY
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.




S. Carter

[ Featuring Amil ]

[Jay-Z]
S-dot-Carter
Y'all must try harder
Competition is
[Amil]
Nada
Ladies scream papa
Niggas can't stop ya
Competition is
[Jay-Z]
No, no, no
S-dot-Carter
Y'all must try harder
Competition is
[Amil]
Nada
Ladies scream papa
Niggas can't stop ya
Competition is

[Jay-Z]
No, no, no, nope
You can't see 'em
Though you got plans to be him
Pay homage if by chance you meet him
In his pants pocket, your advance and per diem
It's the undisputed champion
For clique, dough sick, no medicine for us
Competition like I said in the chorus
Let me spell it out for ya
Jay to tha Amil
(A to the Y stay real f*ck how they feel, uh-huh, uh-huh)
That's how we put it down
(Uh-huh, uh-huh y'all gon get it now)
Chip off the old block
Resemble my old pops
'Cept I tote glocks and open dope spots
And I shut down rap crews
Smack them cats who flash tools
Laugh at fake ballers with bad jewels
I'll tell you once
This is shit you should've of knew
(Jigga what?)
Jigga
(Jigga who?)
Okay

[Jay-Z]
S-dot-Carter
Y'all must try harder
Competition is
[Amil]
Nada
Ladies scream papa
Niggas can't stop ya
Competition is
[Jay-Z]
No, no, no
S-dot-Carter
Y'all must try harder
Competition is
[Amil]
Nada
Ladies scream papa
Niggas can't stop ya
Competition is

[Jay-Z]
No, no, no
I'mma Roc-a-fella soldier
I thought I told ya
Hustler, nigga move weight like Oprah
Drive wide body, twenty-inch big motor
No tints, make no mistake y'all it's Hova
I stay sportin' played Jordan's before Jordan
Verses tight, hooks harder than Ken Norton
Musically touching you
Truthfully I abuse beats better call BCW
I make my mother move
So I have no problem coming around the old way
Sluggin' you, that's what a thug will do
(Thuggin', bust techs, a suspect dangerous, and I love rough sex)
Yeah that's what's up
Even when I'm asleep the gats is up
Paranoid like Sunny drive backing up
But I'm from Bed-Stuy, killa with the flow
Let lead fly from out the four-four, motherf*ckers

[Jay-Z]
S-dot-Carter
Y'all must try harder
Competition is
[Amil]
Nada
Ladies scream papa
Niggas can't stop ya
Competition is
[Jay-Z]
No, no, no
S-dot-Carter
Y'all must try harder
Competition is
[Amil]
Nada
Ladies scream papa
Niggas can't stop ya
Competition is

[Jay-Z]
No, no, no
None I remain at the top like the sun
And I burn whoever come in my chambers of torture
The flame gon' spark ya
Blood stain the tarp
But remains they chalk ya
Don't try to smooth talk us
[Amil](Jay-Z)
You got nothing to offer
But the baby nine
And make ya fine offer
The chick is ill
Even with four-inch heels
No panties on and Patricia Fields
I get down
Just name the time, the place
We could take it back to Vaseline on our face
On a regular day we just gleam up your space
Rock our own line, got our whole team laced
RW with the torch on my jeans by the waist
Without heat we still gon steam up the place
(Amil-lion, Jigga man, flawless, here we go)

[Jay-Z]
S-dot-Carter
Y'all must try harder
Competition is
[Amil]
Nada
Ladies scream papa
Niggas can't stop ya
Competition is
[Jay-Z]
No, no, no
S-dot-Carter
Y'all must try harder
Competition is
[Amil]
Nada
Ladies scream papa
Niggas can't stop ya
Competition is
[Jay-Z]
No, no, no
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: HALDANE WAYNE BROWNE, SHAWN C. CARTER, SEAN FRANCIS, RUSSELL HOWARD, AMIL B. WHITEHEAD, CLIFFORD R. SMITH
Copyright: Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, NW ROYALTY CONSULTING, LLC.




Pop 4 Roc

[ Featuring Beanie Sigel, Memphis Bleek, Amil ]

[Amil (Jay-Z)]
(Alright yeah)
Would ya love me? (Uh-huh, alright)
Would ya hate me? (Watch this yo)
I know ya love me (Alright)
I know ya hate me (Uh Clue)
Would ya love me? (Brand new Duro)
Would ya hate me?
I know ya love me (Feel this yo, uh)

[Amil]
Uh, uh, uh
See me comin through hair done just a slinging my shit
With something Gucci on clinging to my hips
Frontin with the Star Tech ringing in the whip
Icy ears, neck, fingers for years
Got the show wild with the toes out
Shit I don't f*ck with no stingy nigga
I rock Prada, Chanel, and Fendi nigga
What I'mma do with your little blunts and Henney nigga?
I'mma Major Coin with a pretty Bentley nigga
Uh my niggas will ride for me
You should see all the things they buy for me
Uh, it's obvious how I spend my time
Around ballers all day don't have to spend a dime
Callin' up room service when it's dinner time
Get my tan on in the tropics in the winter time nigga, uh, uh, uh

[Amil (Beanie Siegal)]
Would ya love me? (If we couldn't cop the drop)
Would ya hate me? (If we couldn't drop the top)
I know ya love me (Cuz you know we pop 4 Roc)
I know ya hate me (Cuz you know we got shit locked)
Would ya love me? (If we couldn't cop the drop)
Would ya hate me? (If we couldn't drop the top)
I know ya love me (Cuz you know we pop 4 Roc)
I know ya hate me (And you know we got shit locked)

[Beanie Siegal]
Ay yo, we gon' stop this here
Get this clear the general of the Roc in here
Beanie Siegal hottest thing on the block this year
Keep the ego we been bound to the top ya hear
Forget about it you don't know me yo stop the stares
I've been about it pop you then pop ya peers
You know how I do six coup, top be clear
You know how I play low layer Roc-A-Wear
Catch Siegal in the kitchen balloon in the pie
Y'all from whom to buy
Y'all niggas know if y'all cross Mac
Y'all soon to die
Cuz you know I bring heat like June and July
Spit like August
I'm the truth I'm not lying
I'm the reason why Jay feel comfortable retiring
I gotta laugh cuz y'all work hard at this shit
Think about yo I just started this shit
Just imagine if I put my heart in this shit
Scary sight y'all niggas feel me right
God damn yo I barely write
But every rhyme be in check like a pair of Nikes

[Amil (Beanie Siegal)]
Would ya love me? (If we couldn't cop the drop)
Would ya hate me? (If we couldn't drop the top)
I know ya love me (Cuz you know we pop 4 roc)
I know ya hate me (Cuz you know we got shit locked)
Would ya love me? (If we couldn't cop the drop)
Would ya hate me? (If we couldn't drop the top)
I know ya love me (Cuz you know we pop 4 roc)
I know ya hate me (And you know we got shit locked)

[Memphis Bleek]
Yo, yo, well I'm gold now
Memph Man Coming Of Age and I'm grown now
Sittin on chrome now
I'm the youngest gun, I get it on with anyone
I've been in thirty beefs shit I'm barely 21
Guns I hold em like offensive linemen
Bring em back to the streets like a brick on consignment
Interlining of the Mark Buchanan
Spark two hammers
Memph Man gold marks the understanding

[Jay-Z]
We don't engage in war we elope
Orange juice style beat niggas to a pulp
We broke nigga you just told 3 jokes
Me, Biggs, and Dame we get some things
See the six dames me and Biggs live in the Range
Mine's platinum his Champagne
Niggas whisper cuz if they talk they gets slain
Y'all's was looking for me on the charts the bricks came
Left the same night in the morning the chicks came
I just use rap to put shit in my name
The death's just a matter of time the hit's been arranged
Contracts signed the shits in your name
Just to lame rap niggas I'm the king
Motherf*ck the ring mami kiss the chain
I don't got game to waste on y'all
I'm don't think with my dick or chase my balls
I'm a hustla hit me with an eighth of raw
And when I get on top I'mma blaze all y'all
Keep em laced some more I know you want some things
I drink a lot of water mami come clean
Chicks I pump her then dump her
Cars we got em bumper to bumper
Rap niggas y'all days are numbered
Nobody drop nothin' next summer, yeah

[Amil (Beanie Siegal)]
Would ya love me? (If we couldn't cop the drop)
Would ya hate me? (If we couldn't drop the top)
I know ya love me (Cuz you know we pop 4 roc)
I know ya hate me (Cuz you know we got shit locked)
Would ya love me? (If we couldn't cop the drop)
Would ya hate me? (If we couldn't drop the top)
I know ya love me (Cuz you know we pop 4 roc)
I know ya hate me (And you know we got shit locked)

[Jay-Z]
Yeah R-O-C for the 2 triple O
Ya heard me
You are about to witness a dynasty like no other
Beanie Siegal, The General
Amil-lion, Diana Ross of the ROC
Memph Bleek, Young god
Ha, ha
Jigga Man, get ya mind right niggas
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: AMIL WHITEHEAD, AMIL B. WHITEHEAD, DWIGHT GRANT, ERNESTO SHAW, ERNESTO SHAW, JR., KENNETH IFILL, KENNETH A. IFILL, MALIK COX, MALIK DESHAWN COX, SHAWN CARTER
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., BMG Rights Management




Watch Me

[ Featuring Dr. Dre ]

[intro sound of flame: Dr. Dre's "Chronic" trademark]

[Dre] YEAH!
[Jay] Uh uhh uh-uhh, boom boom boom
[Dre] D-R-E!
[Jay] Say it with me niggaz, boom boom
[Dre] And Jay-Z!
[Jay] Boom boom boom boom
[Dre] What the f*ck?!
[Jay] Boom boom boom boom
[Dre] Watch me!
[Jay] Jigga-Man, ya heard? Boom boom boom
Brooklyn, ya heard? Boom boom booom
[Dre] Compton!
[Jay] Gotti Gotti ya heard? Yo..
[Dre] C'mon!

[Jay-Z]
You gotta, pop that styles, rock that watch dial
See that Benz? Cop that now
Drop-that-top-down, they gon' kill us anyway
Them cops uptown hit holmes with forty-one rounds
Live yo' life, get yo' ice
She been with you since day one nigga, trick on yo' wife
Spend that dough, when in doubt, take that trip
She ain't livin for the moment homey shake that bitch
He that cool, he can't take you nowhere? Then leave that fool
Be that rude if he that cool
Save for what? Ball til your days is up
This place is f*cked, all type of AIDS and such
How they make it where you afraid to f*ck
They gave us drugs then turned around and investigated us
Life is short, then you on life support
so in between it all I'ma say I seen it all, watch me

[Chorus: Dr. Dre]

Place yourself in the shoes of true felons (uh-huh)
and tell me you won't ball every chance you get (uhh, watch me)
At any, chance you hit (that's right) we live for the moment
(yo, watch, watch) Makes sense don't it? Now make dollars
(Watch me) You see me around some cheese
(Watch me) See me with hustlers around them G's
(Watch me) Blowin 'dro runnin through pounds of weed
(Watch me) At the bar baby, round's on me
(Watch me)

[Jay-Z]
Watch me turn somethin out of nothin, turn platinum from gold
Watch me light the Cohiba off the Viking stove
I take an empty bank account, fill it with oh's
I take an empty building then I fill it with hoes
Watch me, cop that Coupe, shine for the ladies
have em sayin, "Damn I never seen a watch that blue"
And while they still mesmerized I pop that cooch'
Shit, law enforcement couldn't stop that dude
Guess who? Fresh off of "Volume 2"
Back at you, peep the numbers my album do
They call me Cham-pagne-hovah, wake up with a hangover
When y'all think the game's over, do the same thing over
Still with the same soldiers
Still gettin brain and it's plain ain't a thang gon' change over
Hop out the truck, hand on my cock and nuts
Who got the bank, I'm stoppin it up, watch me

[Chorus: Dr. Dre]

Place yourself in the shoes of true felons (uh-huh)
and tell me you won't ball every chance you get (watch me)
At any, chance you hit, we live for the moment
Makes sense don't it? Now make dollars
(Watch me) You see me around some cheese
(Watch me) Hangin with hustlers around them G's
(Watch me) Blowin 'dro runnin through pounds of weed
(Watch me) At the bar bitch, round's on me
(Watch me)

[Jay-Z]
Yo the watch too rocky, need shades
Continental sittin on blades, spinnin like waves
Gun too Brock-y, behave
Big shot, plus I'm feelin like Rocky these days
Ice don't melt I could ski through a heatwave
Nights won't help you see Jay, it'll be day
My shit too bright, I rip through mics
plus I push more powder than Crystal Light
Chick mad, said I hold my pistol too tight
Get a grip bitch, this how I get through life
I buy out the bar, spit Crist' through the mic
See Jigga in the 6 and all the shit you like
See Jigga givin dick to every bitch you like
I told her, "It's Jay-Day and Hit-You-Night"
You wanna, see me again you gotta get two dice
I got rules I can't hit you twice, you heard me?
Watch me

[Chorus: Dr. Dre]

Place yourself in the shoes of true felons (uh-huh)
and tell me you won't ball every chance you get (that's right)
At any, chance you hit, we live for the moment
Makes sense don't it? Now make dollars
(Watch me) You see me around some cheese
(Watch me) See me with hustlers around them G's
(Watch me) Blowin 'dro runnin through pounds of weed
(Watch me) At the bar baby, round's on me
(Watch me)
(Watch me) You see me around some cheese
(Watch me) Hangin with hustlers around them G's
(Watch me) Blowin 'dro runnin through pounds of weed
(Watch me) At the bar bitch, round's on me
(Watch me)

[Jay-Z]
Uh-huh-uh uh-uhh uh-uhh.. uh
Uh-huh-uh uh-uhh uh-uhh..
Uh-huh-uh, Jigga Jigga shit huh?
Uh-huh, uh-huh-uh, Brooklyn-Brooklyn shit huh?
(Compton) Uh-huh-uh, Gotti Gotti shit huh?
(C'mon) Uh-huh, uh-huh-uh, Lil' Rob shit huh?
(C'mon) Uh-huh-uh-UHH, Roc-a-Fella shit y'all
(C'mon) Uh-huh, uh-huh, murder murder shit y'all
(Watch me!)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JEFFREY ATKINS, IRVING N LORENZO, ROBERT N MAYS
Copyright: Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC




Big Pimpin

[ Featuring UGK ]

Uh, uh uh uh
It's big pimpin' baby
It's big pimpin', spendin' G's
Feel me uh-huh uh, uh-huh
Ge-ge-geyeah, geyeah
Ge-ge-geyeah, geyeah

You know I thug 'em, f*ck 'em, love 'em, leave 'em
'Cause I don't f*ckin' need 'em
Take 'em out the hood, keep 'em lookin' good
But I don't f*ckin' feed 'em
First time they fuss I'm breezin'
Talkin' bout, "What's the reasons?"
I'm a pimp in every sense of the word, bitch
Better trust than believe 'em
In the cut where I keep 'em
'Til I need a nut, 'til I need to beat the guts
Then it's, beep beep and I'm pickin' 'em up
Let 'em play with the dick in the truck
Many chicks want to put Jigga fist in cuffs
Divorce him and split his bucks
Just be'cause you got good head, I'm a break bread
So you can be livin' it up? Shit I
Parts with nothin', y'all be frontin'
Me give my heart to a woman?
Not for nothin', never happen
I'll be forever mackin'
Heart cold as assassins, I got no passion
I got no patience
And I hate waitin'
Hoe get yo' ass in
And let's ride, check 'em out now
Ride, yeah
And let's ride check 'em out now
Ride, yeah

We doin', big pimpin', we spendin' cheese
Check 'em out now
Big pimpin', on B.L.A.D.'s
We doin big pimpin' up in N.Y.C.
It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and Bun B
Yo yo yo big pimpin', spendin' cheese
We doin' big pimpin', on B.L.A.D.'s
We doin' big pimpin' up in N.Y.C.
It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and Bun B

Nigga it's the big Southern rap impresario
Comin' straight up out the black barrio
Makes a mill' up off a sorry hoe
Then sit back and peep my scenario
Oops, my bad, that's my scenario
No I can't f*ck a scary hoe
Now every time, every place, everywhere we go
Hoes start pointin', they say, "There he go!"
Now these motherf*ckers know we carry mo' heat than a little bit
We don't pull it out over little shit
And if you catch a lick when I spit, then it won't be a little hit
Go read a book you illiterate son of a bitch and step up yo' vocab
Don't be surprised if yo' hoe stab out with me
And you see us comin' down on yo' slab
Livin' ghetto fabulous, so mad, you just can't take it
But nigga if you hatin' I
Then you wait while I get yo' bitch butt-naked, just break it
You gotta pay like you weigh wet wit two pairs of clothes on
Now get yo' ass to the back as I'm flyin' to the track
Timbaland let me spit my pro's on
Pump it up in the pro-zone
That's the track that we breakin' these hoes on
Ain't the track that we flows on
But when shit get hot, then the glock start poppin' like ozone
We keep hoes crunk like Trigger-man
Fo' real it don't get no bigger man
Don't trip, let's flip, gettin' throwed on the flip
Gettin' blowed with the motherf*ckin' Jigga Man, fool

We be big pimpin' spendin' cheese
We be big pimpin' on B.L.A.D.'s
We be big pimpin' down in P.A.T.
It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and Bun B
'Cause we be big pimpin', spendin' cheese
And we be big pimpin', on B.L.A.D.'s
'Cause we be big pimpin' in P.A.T.
It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and Bun B nigga

Uh smokin' out, throwin' up, keepin' lean up in my cup
All my car got leather and wood, in my hood we call it buck
Everybody want to ball, holla at broads at the mall
If he up, watch him fall, nigga I can't f*ck with y'all
If I wasn't rappin' baby, I would still be ridin' Mercedes
Chromin' shinin' sippin' daily, no rest until whitey pay me
Uh now what y'all know bout them Texas boys
Comin' down in candied toys, smokin' weed and talkin' noise

We be big pimpin', spendin cheese
We be big pimpin', on B.L.A.D.'s
We be big pimpin' down in P.A.T.
It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and Bun B
'Cause we be big pimpin', spendin' cheese
And we be big pimpin', on B.L.A.D.'s
'Cause we be big pimpin' in P.A.T.
It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and Bun B nigga
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Timothy Z. Mosley, Kyambo Joshua, Shawn Corey Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.




Theres Been A Murder

[BLAM BLAM]
[woman screaming in pain .. cops yelling] "Go! Go! Go! Go!"
*police sirens*

[Hook: sung vocals]
Think there's been a murder-errra-ahhh-hahh-ahhh
I ahh, think there's been a..
I.. I think there's been a..
Think there's been a murder-errra-ahhh-hahh-ahhh
I ahh, think there's been a..
I.. I think there's been a..

[Jay-Z]
I hustle from, night to morning, dawn to dusk
Kidnap and robberies like, (c'mon nigga) "You goin with us"
I held roundtable meetings so we could go on and discuss
not only money but all the emotions goin through us
Why we don't cry when niggaz die, that's how the street raised him
Look in the air, say a prayer (hail mary) hopin God forgave him
Cop liquor, twist it, tap it twice, pour it to the pavement
We live dangerous, often findin ourself in the eyes of strangers
(Who the f*ck is you?) My dream is big and in it my team is rich
as seen through the eyes of a nigga who ain't seen shit
Back to live action, I'm packin, I'm still in the mix
like new hits, I think I'm goin over your head a lil' bit
But I let you know I changed names when I roam through town
Stay free and be who I'm professional known as now
Jay-motherf*ckin-Z; and with that said
back to Shawn Carter the hustler, Jay-Z is dead, and uhh

[Hook]

[Jay-Z]
My infatuation with autos led to autos gettin sprayed
Houses gettin broken in, quarters gettin trayed
Bricks gettin chopped, mom's pots gettin used
One thrown in that water, try the soda if there's two (bring it back)
Expensive shoes worn, Louis Vuitton seats, roof gone
Coke cheap, my face is like a coupon
I gotta do Shawn, cause even when Jay-Z was lukewarm
I was gettin my loot on, nigga I'm too strong
Eat til the food's gone, they placed me on this earth
The twin brother of Rich Porter, seperated at birth
I got the soul of a hustler, quiet noise like a muffler
F*ck with us, walk through the ghetto, see the place that corrupted us
Learn why we buck at the guys that come up with us
Ain't enough bucks for us to split in this shit
Plus ain't nobody lovin us; and with that said
back to Shawn Carter the hustler, Jay-Z is dead, and uhh

[Hook]

[Jay-Z]
See my life is like a see-saw
And until I move this weight it's gon' keep me to the floor
Travel with me through my deep thoughts
Y'all can't learn Jigga by the shit y'all be readin in The Source;
It's deeper of course
Follow the life of this reckless minor
At sixteen in the 600, unlicensed driver
Playin, cops and robbers, like shots can't stop us
Flippin a bird to the choppers (f*ck you coppers)
Buck-thirty on the turns
Reckless abandon, when I'm standin on this pedal
Hand on my metal, minus all this time they tryin to give me
Lord help me, all I ever wanted to be was wealthy or
somebody to tell me that they felt me
I tried to play the hand you dealt me
but you gave me five funnies an' shit
I was hungry I need menage money
Nothin less than a 520; and with that said
back to Shawn Carter the hustler, Jay-Z is [BLAM]

Think there's been a murder-errra-ahhh-hahh-ahhh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, ALANA DAVIS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Come And Get Me

I remove your roof nigga let the sun shine in
Thirty-eight waist, enough to put one nine in
Really a thirty-six without the gun I'm thin
But when the gat is tucked, I'm fat as f*ck
Ignorant bastard, I'm takin it back to day one
No kids, but trust me I know how to raise a gun
For niggaz that think I spend my days in the sun
Well here's the shock of your life, the glock not the mic
Homey I'm not into hype, trust me, I'm still street
You still f*ckin up then trust me I still creep
Yeah I know the platinum chain be lookin real sweet
But reach and I bury niggaz sixty feet deep
S dot Carter turn rappers into martyrs
Seperate fathers from they daughters, why bother
I'm a crook like you, I took like you
I disobeyed the law threw out the book like you
How dare you look at jigga like I'm shook like boo
I keep the fifth with me nigga, come and get me

Come and get me!
Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-come
Come and get me! ka-ka-ka-come and get me!
Come and get me! ka-ka-ka
Ka-ka-ka-ka-come
Come and get me come and get me

Don't know what y'all niggaz is
Tryin to do but I don't like it
Yeah, straight gangster shit
Heyyyy, uh-huh-uh-uhh gangster shit
Uhh, straight gangster nigga
Roc

Yo, your summer's bout to get hot
Niggaz home from jail and they plottin
Heard about the watch, the Bentley hard-top
The continental t, got em resentin me
God I work hard, please don't envy me
I paid the cost to be the boss to floss this hard
I can recall a year ago I almost lost this job
All y'all remember is the part about me parkin the hog
What about all them days I was walkin my dogs?
Barkin at broads, but they never hollered back
And if they did all they said was, "where dem dollaz at?"
Imagine, bein skinny growin up around broader cats
The quiet assassin demeanor of them college cats
Until I got a gat and loudly start poppin back
Round the way, niggaz called me bobby bouchete
Now all I hear is whispers of what you gon' do to jay
How y'all gon' stick me up, take my jewels away
Pull out your gat, car jack me take my cruise away
Well I got news for y'all fools today, hey

I got, shots to give come and get me nigga
Y'all wanna rob the kid? come and get me nigga
I won't, part with this come and get me nigga
I worked, hard for this come and get me nigga
I got, shots to give, come and get me
Come and get me

I made it so, you could say marcy and it was all good
I ain't crossover I brought the suburbs to the hood
Made em relate to your struggle, told em bout your hustle
Went on MTV with do-rags, I made them love you
You know normally them people wouldn't be f*ckin witchu
Til I made em understand why you do what you do
I expected to hear, "Jay, if it wasn't for you"
But instead, all I hear is buzzin in your crew
How y'all scheamin, tryin to get accustomed to my moves
So y'all could tape my mouth, stake out my house
But I got pride I'm a nigga first
I gotta cock back and pull the trigger first
That's how jigga work
The funny thing, I represent y'all every time I spit a verse
And that's the shit that hurts
But hey, I got my mind right, got my nine right here
So when y'all feel that the time is right

I got, shots to give come and get me nigga
Y'all wanna rob the kid? Come and get me nigga
I won't, part with this come and get me nigga
I worked, hard for this come and get me nigga
I got, shots to give, come and get me
Come and get me

Aiy yo yo, aiy yo yo
It's only fair that I warn ya, rap's my new hustle
I'm treatin it like the corner, f*ck with me if you wanna
My game change but my mindframe remains the same
I gotta protect what's mine
Shit I started from nothin', zero, zip
I made my way hustlin, I don't owe niggaz shit
I'm paranoid now, so I keep the gun gripped
Cats I played skelly with? niggaz done flipped
I keep a banger in the ankle, one in the hip
Two in the stash, one come up when I shift
I keep one under the chair where I sit
I even got a gun in the hair in the bun of my bitch
Ask big, every time he'd come to my crib
He'd find another gun that I hid
I'm ready to make this one of the, hottest summer there is
Everyday like a hundred-and-six, shit

I got, shots to give come and get me nigga
Y'all wanna rob the kid? come and get me nigga
I won't, part with this come and get me nigga
I worked, hard for this come and get me nigga
I got, shots to give, come and get me
Come and get me
I got, shots to give come and get me nigga
Y'all wanna rob the kid? come and get me nigga
I won't, part with this come and get me nigga
I worked, hard for this come and get me nigga
I got, shots to give, come and get me
Come and get me

Motherf*ckers!
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Hal David, Burt F. Bacharach, Shawn Carter, Kasseem Dean, Irving Lorenzo
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




NYMP

[Jay-Z]
Geyeah, NYMP the realest, uhh
This is educated thug MU-SIC, niggaz

Life's a battle, mean streets eat you alive
Blocks'll have you, tryin to maintain your course
through the potholes and gravel
Hot holes and what-have-you, tryin to clock dough
Foes tryin to pop shots through you by code
Pigs tryin to grab you and lock up your soul
Through the Hot Apple, nighttime shots crackle
(bucka bucka bucka) Fiends tryin to gaffle you
Not only cokeheads but the Feds in the Mercuray Topaz
after you, up the avenue
Tryin to give you big numbers, you got math to do
Tryin to make you miss summer, shit, that ain't cool
I caught smaller cases tryin to get cap or two
Up against the wall, tryin to pass through
Ghost-like, hear the cries from the tortured souls
Most nights, I hold my toast tight, and it goes like

[Chorus: Jay-Z]

N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz
N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz
Uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH, N.Y.M.P. the realest
Marcy.. Brooklyn..

[Jay-Z]
Yo; I come through, gettin money, sittin on twenties
Niggaz throwin me shade, but ain't shit sunny
Hot shells only thing niggaz could get from me
Cocktails thrown in your living room, KA-BOOM
I'm so confrontational;
they shoulda never let me go on probation yo
I'm a hustler; except that..
no correctional facilities can correct that
I took a step back, I viewed myself, seen where my head was at
It's where that dough is homey, gotta get that
Gotta get away, some try but head back
Uhh, street smart niggaz got left back
Some died, they left stacks
Me, I ball right, and on top of that I'm dog nice
Jigga been cold as f*ck before ice
Not before Christ, but a long f*ckin time
Get your mind right niggaz

[Chorus: Jay-Z]

N.Y.M.P., the realest
Uh-huh-uh-UHH, N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz
Uhh uh-huh, uh-UHH, N.Y.M.P. the realest niggaz
Marcy.. feel me..

[Jay-Z]
I looked Death in the face years back
I held tears back, I gathered myself and stared back
I'm from where you don't crack, the weak don't live
You gotta bounce back homey, the streets don't give
I take and rape villages, who gon' stop him?
Not Rudy Guiliani, not Hillary Rodham
Still I still pop him
Shit I grassy knoll and hilltop him, it's all political now
I think big when I spit at you now
Between my dog and the figures, the four gonna get'cha
Between life and death, they killed my spirit
So what little life I got left, y'all can expect me to ball
I ? myself, teacher said I was a lost cause
cause I used to roam them halls
Still I spit knowledge, dropped out of high school, skipped college
Who woulda thought I'd make it "Big" like Ms. Wallace?

[Chorus: Jay-Z]

Uhh, yeah, N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz
Brooklyn, what? N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz
Uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH, N.Y.M.P. the realest niggaz
Marcy.. Brooklyn, N.Y.M.P. the realest, feel me

[Jay-Z]
Educated, thug mu-sic niggaz
This is Brooklyn, this is gangsta, this is project
Real shit, N.Y.M.P. the realest niggaz
Marcy, Brooklyn, stompin grounds
F*ck with me
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, BRENDA GORDON RUSSELL, BRIAN RUSSELL, DANA STINSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., BMG Rights Management, KENGORUS MUSIC




Hova Song (Outro)

Who ever thought young Shawn Carter would change the game?
Used to rap to the raindrops off my window pane
Duckin' the plain cops, pushin' indo and 'caine
At the kitchen table late night, no pen, just my brain
First album niggaz love me cause they thought I was poor
Guess I'm successful, industry don't love me no more
Well I'm the same nigga from your corner, bubblin' raw
Skully tilted, pants saggin', damn near touchin' the floor
And I come with do-rags to your so-called awards
T-shirt with my chain out like f*ck y'all all
Retrospect ain't been the same since I lost my dad
He's still alive, but still f*ck you, don't cross my path
A&r's had me feelin' like moss in the drab
So I turned the league out with "Reasonable Doubt"
Get your CD's out, let's go, song for song
I'm the illest nigga doin' it til y'all prove me wrong
Do you believe?
It's Hova the God, uh, uh, uh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Jimi Hendrix, Shawn Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Back to: Jay-Z


Vol. 3... Life and Times of S. Carter is the fourth studio album by American rapper Jay-Z. It was released on December 28, 1999, by Roc-A-Fella Records and Def Jam Recordings. According to USA Today critic Steve Jones, the record marked a return to the street-oriented sound of Jay-Z's 1996 debut album, Reasonable Doubt. Vol. 3... featured production from Swizz Beatz, Timbaland, K-Rob, DJ Clue, Rockwilder, DJ Premier, and Irv Gotti, among others.

The album was well received by critics and debuted at number one on the Billboard 200, selling 462,000 copies in its first week. It has since sold over three million copies and been certified triple platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America.
Performed By: Jay-Z
Genre(s): Hip hop
Producer(s): Darrell "Digga" Branch, Clue, DJ Premier, DURO, Irv Gotti, K Rob, Lil Rob, Chauncey Mahan, P. Skam, Rockwilder, Russell "Russ" Howard, Sean "SAF" Francis, Sam Sneed, Swizz Beatz, Timbaland, Lance Rivera
Length: 71:05
Released: December 28th, 1999
Year: 1999

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