The other night
While I was uh researchin' what were goin' to be discussin' today
I came across a passage in a book that um
I think it uh really simplifies
What the human administrative is talkin' about
And I learned that all things must come to an end
It is an inevitable part of the cycle of resistance
All things must conclude
Take the analogy of a tree that grows in Brooklyn
Among the steel and the concrete
With all its glorious branches and leaves
One day it too will pass on its legacy
Through the seeds it dropped to the ground
And as the wind carries these seeds throughout wherever they might move
A new life will begin for each one of them
As they stand as a monument to the one that came before
That came before that came before
That came before that came before
Jay-Z - The Black Album Lyrics
Jay-Z - The Black Album Lyrics
Writer: Justin Smith, Shawn Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
December 4th
[Jay-Z's Mom:]
Sean Carter was born December 4th
Weighing in at 10 pounds 8 ounces
He was the last of my 4 children
The only one who didn't give me any pain when i gave birth to him
And that's how i knew that he was a special child
[Jay-Z Verse 1]
They say "they never really miss you til you dead or you gone"
So on that note i'm leaving after the song
So you ain't gotta feel no way about Jay so long
Atleast let me tell you why i'm this way, Hold on
I was conceived by Gloria Carter and Adaness Revees
Who made love under the Siccamore tree
Which makes me
A more sicker M.C. and my momma would claim
At 10 pounds when i was born i didn't give her no pain
Although through the years i gave her her fair share
I gave her her first real scare
I made it from birth and i got here
She knows my purpose wasn't purpose
I ain't perfect i care
But i feel worthless cause my shirts wasn't matchin my gear
Now i'm just scratchin the surface cause what's burried under there
Was a kid torn apart once his pop disappeared
I went to school got good grades could behave when i wanted
But i had demons deep inside that would raise when confronted
Hold on
[Jay-Z's Mom:]
Shawn was a very shy child growing up
He was into sports
And a funny story is
At 4 he taught hisself how to ride a bike
A two wheeler at that
Isn't that special?
But, i noticed a change in him when me and my husband broke up
[Jay-Z Verse 2]
Now all the teachers couldn't reach me
And my momma couldn't beat me
Hard enough to match the pain of my pops not seeing me, SO
With that distain in my membrain
Got on my pimp game
F*ck the world my defense came
Then Dahaven introuced me to the game
Spanish Jose introduced me to cane
I'm a hustler now
My gear is in and i'm in the in crowd
And all the wavey light skinned girls is lovin me now
My self esteem went through the roof man i got my swag
Got a volvo from this girl when her man got bagged
Plus i hit my momma with cash from a show that i had
Supposedly knowin nobody paid Jaz wack ass
I'm geting ahead of myself, by the way, i could rap
That came second to me movin this crack
Gimme a second i swear
I will say about my rap career
Til 96 came niggas i'm here
Good-bye
[Jay-Z's Mom:]
Shawn use to be in the kitchen
Beating on the table and rapping
And um, until the wee hours of the morning
And then i bought him a boom box
And his sisters and brothers said he would drive them nuts
But that was my way to keep him close to me and out of trouble
[Jay-Z Verse 3]
Good-bye to the game all the spoils, the adreneline rush
Your blood boils you in a spot knowing cops could rush
And you in a drop your so easy to touch
No two days are alike
Except the first and fifteenth pretty much
And "trust" is a word you seldom hear from us
Hustlers we don't sleep we rest one eye up
And the drought to find a man when the well dries up
You learn to work the water without workin thirst til die YUP
And niggas get tied up for product
And little brothers ring fingers get cut up
To show mothers they really got em
And this was the stress i live with til i decided
To try this rap shit for a livin
I Pray i'm forgiven
For every bad decision i made
Every sister i played
Cause i'm still paranoid to this day
And it's nobody fault i made the decisions i made
This is the life i chose or rather the life that chose me
If you can't respect that your whole perspective is wack
Maybe you'll love me when i fade to black
If you can't respect that your whole perspective is wack
Maybe you'll love me when i fade to black
[repeat 2 more times to fade]
Sean Carter was born December 4th
Weighing in at 10 pounds 8 ounces
He was the last of my 4 children
The only one who didn't give me any pain when i gave birth to him
And that's how i knew that he was a special child
[Jay-Z Verse 1]
They say "they never really miss you til you dead or you gone"
So on that note i'm leaving after the song
So you ain't gotta feel no way about Jay so long
Atleast let me tell you why i'm this way, Hold on
I was conceived by Gloria Carter and Adaness Revees
Who made love under the Siccamore tree
Which makes me
A more sicker M.C. and my momma would claim
At 10 pounds when i was born i didn't give her no pain
Although through the years i gave her her fair share
I gave her her first real scare
I made it from birth and i got here
She knows my purpose wasn't purpose
I ain't perfect i care
But i feel worthless cause my shirts wasn't matchin my gear
Now i'm just scratchin the surface cause what's burried under there
Was a kid torn apart once his pop disappeared
I went to school got good grades could behave when i wanted
But i had demons deep inside that would raise when confronted
Hold on
[Jay-Z's Mom:]
Shawn was a very shy child growing up
He was into sports
And a funny story is
At 4 he taught hisself how to ride a bike
A two wheeler at that
Isn't that special?
But, i noticed a change in him when me and my husband broke up
[Jay-Z Verse 2]
Now all the teachers couldn't reach me
And my momma couldn't beat me
Hard enough to match the pain of my pops not seeing me, SO
With that distain in my membrain
Got on my pimp game
F*ck the world my defense came
Then Dahaven introuced me to the game
Spanish Jose introduced me to cane
I'm a hustler now
My gear is in and i'm in the in crowd
And all the wavey light skinned girls is lovin me now
My self esteem went through the roof man i got my swag
Got a volvo from this girl when her man got bagged
Plus i hit my momma with cash from a show that i had
Supposedly knowin nobody paid Jaz wack ass
I'm geting ahead of myself, by the way, i could rap
That came second to me movin this crack
Gimme a second i swear
I will say about my rap career
Til 96 came niggas i'm here
Good-bye
[Jay-Z's Mom:]
Shawn use to be in the kitchen
Beating on the table and rapping
And um, until the wee hours of the morning
And then i bought him a boom box
And his sisters and brothers said he would drive them nuts
But that was my way to keep him close to me and out of trouble
[Jay-Z Verse 3]
Good-bye to the game all the spoils, the adreneline rush
Your blood boils you in a spot knowing cops could rush
And you in a drop your so easy to touch
No two days are alike
Except the first and fifteenth pretty much
And "trust" is a word you seldom hear from us
Hustlers we don't sleep we rest one eye up
And the drought to find a man when the well dries up
You learn to work the water without workin thirst til die YUP
And niggas get tied up for product
And little brothers ring fingers get cut up
To show mothers they really got em
And this was the stress i live with til i decided
To try this rap shit for a livin
I Pray i'm forgiven
For every bad decision i made
Every sister i played
Cause i'm still paranoid to this day
And it's nobody fault i made the decisions i made
This is the life i chose or rather the life that chose me
If you can't respect that your whole perspective is wack
Maybe you'll love me when i fade to black
If you can't respect that your whole perspective is wack
Maybe you'll love me when i fade to black
[repeat 2 more times to fade]
Writer: WALTER BOYD, SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, ELIJAH POWELL
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
What More Can I Say?
Are you not entertained?
Are you not entertained?
Is this not why you're here?
Uh, uh, huh
Turn the music up
Turn me down
Guru, let's go get 'em again
This time it's for the money my nigga
Brooklyn stand up
There's never been a nigga this good for this long
This hood
Or this pop is hot
Or this strong
With so many different flows
This one's for this song
The next one I'll switch up
This one will get bit up
These f*cks
To lazy to make up shit
They crazy
They don't paint pictures
They just trace me
You know what
Soon they forget who they plucked
They whole style from
And try to reverse the outcome
I'm like, cluck
I'm not a biter
I'm a writer
For myself and others
I say a B.I.G. verse I'm only biggin' up my brother
Biggin' up my borough
I'm big enough to do it
I'm that thorough
Plus I know my own flow is foolish
So the rings and things you sing about
Bring 'em out
It's hard to yell when the barrel's in your mouth
I'm in, new sneakers
Deuce seaters
A few divas
What more can I tell you?
Let me spell it for you
W-i-double L-I-E
Nobody truer than H-O-V
And I'm back for more
New York's ambassador
Prime Minister back to finish my business up
What more can I say?
What more can I do?
I give this all to you
I know this much is true
My life
(Look at my life)
(See what I see)
What more can I say to you
You heard it all
You already know what I'm about
Flying birds down south
Moving wet off the step
Purple Rain in the drought
Stunting on hoes
Brushing off my shirt
But ain't nothing on my clothes
Except my chain
My name
Young H-O
Pitch the yea faithful
Even if they patrol I make payroll
Benz paid for
Friends they roll
Private jets down to Turks and Caicos
Chrys' case loads
I don't give a shit
Nigga one life to live I can't let a day go
Bye
Without me being fly
Fresh to death
Head to toe until the day I rest
And I don't wear jerseys I'm thirty plus
Give me a crisp pair of jeans nigga button ups
S dots on my feet
Makes my cycle complete
What more can I say Guru play the beat
We gonna let this ride into the hook
I'ma snap my fingers on this one
What more can I say to you?
Get my grown man on
Let's go!
(What more can I say?)
Now you know ass is Willie
When they got you in a mag
For like half a billi
And your ass ain't Lily
White
That mean that shit you write must be illy
Either that or your flow is silly
It's both
I don't mean to boast
But damn if I don't brag
Them crackers gonna act like I ain't on they ads
The Martha Stewart
That's far from Jewish
Far from a Harvard student
Just had the balls to do it
And no I'm not through with it
In fact I'm just previewing it
This ain't the show I'm just EQ'in it
One, two and I won't stop abusing it
To groupie girls stop false accusing it
Back to the music
The Maybach roof is translucent
Niggas got a problem Houston
What up B?
They can't shut up me
Shut down I
Not even P.E.
I'ma ride
God forgive me for my brash delivery
But I remember vividly
What these streets did to me
So picture me
Letting these clowns nit pick at me
Paint me like a pickanniny
I will literally
Kiss Tee-Tee in the forehead
Tell her please forgive me
Then squeeze until your forehead
I'm not the one to score points off
In fact
I got a joint to knock your points off
Young
Hova the God nigga blast for me
I'm at the Trump International
Ask for me
I ain't never scared
I'm everywhere
You ain't never there
Nigga why would I ever care?
Pound for pound I'm the best to ever come around here
Excluding nobody
Look what I embody
The soul of a hustler I really ran the street
I CEO's mine
That marketing plan was me
And no I ain't get shot up a whole bunch of times
Or make up shit in a whole bunch of lines
And I ain't animated, like say a, Busta Rhymes
But the real shit you get when you bust down my lines
Add that to the fact I went plat' a bunch of times
Times that by my influence
On pop culture
I supposed to be number one on everybody's list
We'll see what happens when I no longer exist
F*ck this
(What more can I say?)
Are you not entertained?
Is this not why you're here?
Uh, uh, huh
Turn the music up
Turn me down
Guru, let's go get 'em again
This time it's for the money my nigga
Brooklyn stand up
There's never been a nigga this good for this long
This hood
Or this pop is hot
Or this strong
With so many different flows
This one's for this song
The next one I'll switch up
This one will get bit up
These f*cks
To lazy to make up shit
They crazy
They don't paint pictures
They just trace me
You know what
Soon they forget who they plucked
They whole style from
And try to reverse the outcome
I'm like, cluck
I'm not a biter
I'm a writer
For myself and others
I say a B.I.G. verse I'm only biggin' up my brother
Biggin' up my borough
I'm big enough to do it
I'm that thorough
Plus I know my own flow is foolish
So the rings and things you sing about
Bring 'em out
It's hard to yell when the barrel's in your mouth
I'm in, new sneakers
Deuce seaters
A few divas
What more can I tell you?
Let me spell it for you
W-i-double L-I-E
Nobody truer than H-O-V
And I'm back for more
New York's ambassador
Prime Minister back to finish my business up
What more can I say?
What more can I do?
I give this all to you
I know this much is true
My life
(Look at my life)
(See what I see)
What more can I say to you
You heard it all
You already know what I'm about
Flying birds down south
Moving wet off the step
Purple Rain in the drought
Stunting on hoes
Brushing off my shirt
But ain't nothing on my clothes
Except my chain
My name
Young H-O
Pitch the yea faithful
Even if they patrol I make payroll
Benz paid for
Friends they roll
Private jets down to Turks and Caicos
Chrys' case loads
I don't give a shit
Nigga one life to live I can't let a day go
Bye
Without me being fly
Fresh to death
Head to toe until the day I rest
And I don't wear jerseys I'm thirty plus
Give me a crisp pair of jeans nigga button ups
S dots on my feet
Makes my cycle complete
What more can I say Guru play the beat
We gonna let this ride into the hook
I'ma snap my fingers on this one
What more can I say to you?
Get my grown man on
Let's go!
(What more can I say?)
Now you know ass is Willie
When they got you in a mag
For like half a billi
And your ass ain't Lily
White
That mean that shit you write must be illy
Either that or your flow is silly
It's both
I don't mean to boast
But damn if I don't brag
Them crackers gonna act like I ain't on they ads
The Martha Stewart
That's far from Jewish
Far from a Harvard student
Just had the balls to do it
And no I'm not through with it
In fact I'm just previewing it
This ain't the show I'm just EQ'in it
One, two and I won't stop abusing it
To groupie girls stop false accusing it
Back to the music
The Maybach roof is translucent
Niggas got a problem Houston
What up B?
They can't shut up me
Shut down I
Not even P.E.
I'ma ride
God forgive me for my brash delivery
But I remember vividly
What these streets did to me
So picture me
Letting these clowns nit pick at me
Paint me like a pickanniny
I will literally
Kiss Tee-Tee in the forehead
Tell her please forgive me
Then squeeze until your forehead
I'm not the one to score points off
In fact
I got a joint to knock your points off
Young
Hova the God nigga blast for me
I'm at the Trump International
Ask for me
I ain't never scared
I'm everywhere
You ain't never there
Nigga why would I ever care?
Pound for pound I'm the best to ever come around here
Excluding nobody
Look what I embody
The soul of a hustler I really ran the street
I CEO's mine
That marketing plan was me
And no I ain't get shot up a whole bunch of times
Or make up shit in a whole bunch of lines
And I ain't animated, like say a, Busta Rhymes
But the real shit you get when you bust down my lines
Add that to the fact I went plat' a bunch of times
Times that by my influence
On pop culture
I supposed to be number one on everybody's list
We'll see what happens when I no longer exist
F*ck this
(What more can I say?)
Writer: Kenny Gamble, Thom Bell, Roland Lawrence Chambers, Shawn Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Encore
Thank you, thank you, thank you, you're far too kind
[Chorus]
Now can I get an encore, do you want more
Cookin raw with the Brooklyn boy
So for one last time I need y'all to roar
Now what the hell are you waitin for
After me, there shall be no more
So for one last time, nigga make some noise
[Verse One]
Who you know fresher than Hov'? Riddle me that
The rest of y'all know where I'm lyrically at
Can't none of y'all mirror me back
Yeah hearin me rap is like hearin G. Rap in his prime
I'm, young H.O., rap's Grateful Dead
Back to take over the globe, now break bread
I'm in, Boeing jets, Global Express
Out the country but the blueberry still connect
On the low but the yacht got a triple deck
But when you Young, what the f*ck you expect? Yep, yep
Grand openin, grand closin
God damn your man Hov' cracked the can open again
Who you gon' find doper than him with no pen
just draw off inspiration
Soon you gon' see you can't replace him
with cheap imitations for DESE GENERATIONS
[Chorus - 1/2]
{What the hell are you waiting forrrr?}
[Verse Two]
[sighs] Look what you made me do, look what I made for you
Knew if I paid my dues, how will they pay you
When you first come in the game, they try to play you
Then you drop a couple of hits, look how they wave to you
From Marcy to Madison Square
To the only thing that matters in just a matter of years (yea)
As fate would have it, Jay's status appears
to be at an all-time high, perfect time to say goodbye
When I come back like Jordan, wearin the 4-5
It ain't to play games witchu
It's to aim at you, probably maim you
If I owe you I'm blowin you to smithereeens
Cocksucker take one for your team
And I need you to remember one thing (one thing)
I came, I saw, I conquered
From record sales, to sold out concerts
So muh'f*cker if you want this encore
I need you to scream, 'til your lungs get sore
[Interlude]
OWWWW! It's star time
This man is MADE! He's KILLIN all y'all jive turkeys
Do y'all want more of the Jigga man?
Well if y'all want more of the Jigga man
Then I need y'all to help me, bring him back to stage
Say Hova, c'mon say it!
HO-VA! HO-VA! Are y'all out there? [crowd chants "HO-VA! HO-VA!"]
Are y'all out there? C'mon, louder!
Yeah, now see that's what I'm talkin bout
They love you Jigga - they love you Jigga!
[Jay-Z]
I like the way this one feel
It's so muh'f*ckin soulful man!
(Whoaaaaaahhhh, whoahhhhhhhhhhhhh, whoahhhhhhhhhhhhh)
Yeah [crowd still chanting] okay
[Verse Three]
So this here is the victory lap
Then I'm lea-vin, that's how you get me back
After a year of them 16's, it's one point two
And that's two point four, and I'm only doin two
You wanted to gain attention new dudes
I can get you BET and TRL too
You wanna be in the public, send your budget
Well f*ck it, I ain't budgin!
Young did it to death, you gotta love it
Record companies told me I couldn't cut it
Now look at me, all star-studded
Golfer above par like I putted
All cause the shit I uttered, was utterly ridiculous
How sick is this?
You want to bang, send Kanye change, send Just some dust
Send Hip a grip, then you got' spit
A little somethin like this, WOO!
{What the hell are you waiting forrrr?}
[piano plays out as crowd cheers loudly]
[Chorus]
Now can I get an encore, do you want more
Cookin raw with the Brooklyn boy
So for one last time I need y'all to roar
Now what the hell are you waitin for
After me, there shall be no more
So for one last time, nigga make some noise
[Verse One]
Who you know fresher than Hov'? Riddle me that
The rest of y'all know where I'm lyrically at
Can't none of y'all mirror me back
Yeah hearin me rap is like hearin G. Rap in his prime
I'm, young H.O., rap's Grateful Dead
Back to take over the globe, now break bread
I'm in, Boeing jets, Global Express
Out the country but the blueberry still connect
On the low but the yacht got a triple deck
But when you Young, what the f*ck you expect? Yep, yep
Grand openin, grand closin
God damn your man Hov' cracked the can open again
Who you gon' find doper than him with no pen
just draw off inspiration
Soon you gon' see you can't replace him
with cheap imitations for DESE GENERATIONS
[Chorus - 1/2]
{What the hell are you waiting forrrr?}
[Verse Two]
[sighs] Look what you made me do, look what I made for you
Knew if I paid my dues, how will they pay you
When you first come in the game, they try to play you
Then you drop a couple of hits, look how they wave to you
From Marcy to Madison Square
To the only thing that matters in just a matter of years (yea)
As fate would have it, Jay's status appears
to be at an all-time high, perfect time to say goodbye
When I come back like Jordan, wearin the 4-5
It ain't to play games witchu
It's to aim at you, probably maim you
If I owe you I'm blowin you to smithereeens
Cocksucker take one for your team
And I need you to remember one thing (one thing)
I came, I saw, I conquered
From record sales, to sold out concerts
So muh'f*cker if you want this encore
I need you to scream, 'til your lungs get sore
[Interlude]
OWWWW! It's star time
This man is MADE! He's KILLIN all y'all jive turkeys
Do y'all want more of the Jigga man?
Well if y'all want more of the Jigga man
Then I need y'all to help me, bring him back to stage
Say Hova, c'mon say it!
HO-VA! HO-VA! Are y'all out there? [crowd chants "HO-VA! HO-VA!"]
Are y'all out there? C'mon, louder!
Yeah, now see that's what I'm talkin bout
They love you Jigga - they love you Jigga!
[Jay-Z]
I like the way this one feel
It's so muh'f*ckin soulful man!
(Whoaaaaaahhhh, whoahhhhhhhhhhhhh, whoahhhhhhhhhhhhh)
Yeah [crowd still chanting] okay
[Verse Three]
So this here is the victory lap
Then I'm lea-vin, that's how you get me back
After a year of them 16's, it's one point two
And that's two point four, and I'm only doin two
You wanted to gain attention new dudes
I can get you BET and TRL too
You wanna be in the public, send your budget
Well f*ck it, I ain't budgin!
Young did it to death, you gotta love it
Record companies told me I couldn't cut it
Now look at me, all star-studded
Golfer above par like I putted
All cause the shit I uttered, was utterly ridiculous
How sick is this?
You want to bang, send Kanye change, send Just some dust
Send Hip a grip, then you got' spit
A little somethin like this, WOO!
{What the hell are you waiting forrrr?}
[piano plays out as crowd cheers loudly]
Writer: KANYE WEST, SHAWN CARTER
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Change Clothes
[ Featuring Pharrell Williams ]
Yeah ma, your dude is back, made back roof is back
Tell the whole world the truth is back
You ain't got to argue about who could rap
Cause the proof is back just go through my rap
New York New York yeah where my troopers at
Where my hustlers where my boosters at
I don't care what you do for stacks
I know the world glued you back to the wall
You gotta brawl to that
I been through that, been shot at shoot back
Gotta keep it peace like a Buddhist
I ain't a New Jack nobody goin' Wesley Snipe me
It's less than likely, move back
Let I breathe Jedi Knight
The more space I get the better I write
(Oh) Never I write, but, if, ever I write
I need the space to say whatever I like, now just
(Change clothes and go) You know I stay, fresh to death
I brought you from the projects
And I'm a take you to the top of the globe so let's go (change numbers and go)
Uh huh yeah, uh (now girl I promise you, no substitute)
It's just me
And I goin' tell you again let's get ghost in the phantom
You could bring your friend we could make this a tandem
You could come by yourself and you could stand him
Best believe I sweat out weaves, give Afro puffs like R.A.g.e.
You get if you could move it
Back it on up like a you Haul truck
Then run and tell them thugs you heard HOV knew
He and the boy for real make beautiful music
He is to the east coast what Snoop is, to the west coast what Face is to Houston
Young HOV in the house it's so necessary
No bra with the blouse it's so necessary
No panties and jeans that's so necessary
Now why you fronting on me is that necessary
Do I to you look like a lame
Who don't understand a bra with a mean shoe game
Whose up on Dot Dot Dot and Vera Wang
Ma are you insane, let's just
(What you want me to do?)
(Change clothes and go) You know I stay, fresh to death
I brought you from the projects
And I'm a take you to the top of the globe so let's go (change numbers and go)
Uh huh yeah, uh (now girl I promise you, no substitute)
It's just me
Uh, uh (sexy sexy) Woo!
Uh huh (sexy sexy) It's so necessary right)
Uh huh, woo! (Sexy sexy) that's right it's a groove
Uh huh, it's a groove (sexy sexy) bring it back
Young HOV in the house it's so necessary
No bra with that blouse it's so necessary
No panties and jeans it's so necessary
Why you fronting on me?
Let's go to my hotel cause this don't go well
With those S Dots, gotta to stay fresh ma
Ma, I don't shop what the rest by
Oh no ma please respect ma
Jiggy this is probably purple label
Or that BBC or it's probably tailored
But y'all niggas acting way to tough
Throw on a suit get it tapered up, and let's just
(Change clothes and go) You know I stay, fresh to death
I brought you from the projects
And I'm a take you to the top of the globe so let's go (change numbers and go)
Uh huh yeah, uh (now girl I promise you, no substitute)
It's just me
Uh uh (sexy sexy) sing along
Yeah, uh (sexy sexy) turn your radio up
Woo! (sexy sexy) Put your hands in the air if your in the car
Uh! Snap your fingers now (sexy sexy) woo, uh
Uh, uh, your boy is back
Uh huh, uh, uh, uh, the bounce is back
Uh, uh, woo, uh HOV is back, peace!
Writer: Pharrell Williams, Shawn Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Dirt Off Your Shoulder
You're now tuned into the mu'f*ckin greatest
Turn the music up in the headphones
Tim, you can go and brush your shoulder off nigga I got you, yeah
If you feelin' like a pimp nigga, go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, gon' brush your shoulders off
Niggas is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
I probably owe it to y'all, proud to be locked by the force
Tryin' to hustle some things, that go with the Porsche
Feelin' no remorse, feelin' like my hand was forced
Middle finger to the Lord, nigga grippin' my balls
Stab the ladies they love me, from the bleachers they screamin'
All the ballers is bouncin' they like the way I be leanin'
All the rappers be hatin', off the track that I'm makin'
But all the hustlers they love it just to see one of us make it
Came from the bottom of bottom, to the top of the pots
Nigga London, Japan and I'm straight off the block
Like a running back, get it man, I'm straight off the block
I can run it back, nigga, 'cause I'm straight with the Roc
If you feelin' like a pimp nigga, go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, gon' brush your shoulders off
Niggas is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
Your homey Hov' in position, in the kitchen with soda
I just whipped up a watch, tryin' to get me a Rover
Tryin' to stretch out the coca, like a wrestler, yessir
Keep the heckler close, you know them smokers'll test ya
But like, fifty-two cards when I'm, I'm through dealin'
Now fifty-two bars come out, now you feel 'em
Now, fifty-two cars roll out, remove ceiling
In case fifty-two broads come out, now you chillin'
With a boss bitch of course S.C. on the sleeve
At the 40/40 club, ESPN on the screen
I paid a grip for the jeans, plus the slippers is clean
No chrome on the wheels, I'm a grown-up for real
If you feelin' like a pimp nigga, go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, gon' brush your shoulders off
Niggas is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
Your boy back in the building, Brooklyn we back on the map
Me and my beautiful bitch in the back of that 'Bach
I'm the realest that run it, I just happen to rap
I ain't gotta clap at 'em, niggas scared of that black
I drop that "Black Album" then I back, out it
As the best rapper alive nigga ask about me
From Bricks to Billboards, from grams to Grammy's
The O's to opposite, Orphan Annie
You gotta pardon Jay, for sellin' out the Garden in a day
I'm like a young Marvin in his hey'
I'm a hustler homey, you a customer crony
Got some, dirt on my shoulder, could you brush it off for me?
If you feelin' like a pimp nigga, go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, gon' brush your shoulders off
Niggas is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You're now tuned into the mu'f*ckin' greatest
Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
Turn the music up in the headphones
Tim, you can go and brush your shoulder off nigga I got you, yeah
If you feelin' like a pimp nigga, go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, gon' brush your shoulders off
Niggas is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
I probably owe it to y'all, proud to be locked by the force
Tryin' to hustle some things, that go with the Porsche
Feelin' no remorse, feelin' like my hand was forced
Middle finger to the Lord, nigga grippin' my balls
Stab the ladies they love me, from the bleachers they screamin'
All the ballers is bouncin' they like the way I be leanin'
All the rappers be hatin', off the track that I'm makin'
But all the hustlers they love it just to see one of us make it
Came from the bottom of bottom, to the top of the pots
Nigga London, Japan and I'm straight off the block
Like a running back, get it man, I'm straight off the block
I can run it back, nigga, 'cause I'm straight with the Roc
If you feelin' like a pimp nigga, go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, gon' brush your shoulders off
Niggas is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
Your homey Hov' in position, in the kitchen with soda
I just whipped up a watch, tryin' to get me a Rover
Tryin' to stretch out the coca, like a wrestler, yessir
Keep the heckler close, you know them smokers'll test ya
But like, fifty-two cards when I'm, I'm through dealin'
Now fifty-two bars come out, now you feel 'em
Now, fifty-two cars roll out, remove ceiling
In case fifty-two broads come out, now you chillin'
With a boss bitch of course S.C. on the sleeve
At the 40/40 club, ESPN on the screen
I paid a grip for the jeans, plus the slippers is clean
No chrome on the wheels, I'm a grown-up for real
If you feelin' like a pimp nigga, go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, gon' brush your shoulders off
Niggas is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
Your boy back in the building, Brooklyn we back on the map
Me and my beautiful bitch in the back of that 'Bach
I'm the realest that run it, I just happen to rap
I ain't gotta clap at 'em, niggas scared of that black
I drop that "Black Album" then I back, out it
As the best rapper alive nigga ask about me
From Bricks to Billboards, from grams to Grammy's
The O's to opposite, Orphan Annie
You gotta pardon Jay, for sellin' out the Garden in a day
I'm like a young Marvin in his hey'
I'm a hustler homey, you a customer crony
Got some, dirt on my shoulder, could you brush it off for me?
If you feelin' like a pimp nigga, go and brush your shoulders off
Ladies is pimps too, gon' brush your shoulders off
Niggas is crazy baby, don't forget that boy told you
Get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
You're now tuned into the mu'f*ckin' greatest
Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
Writer: Timothy Mosley, Shawn Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Threat
[Intro]
Yo what's up pimp this threats
That's right, this the- this - this threats pimp
And I'm serious about mine, I'm so sin-surr
nigga I, nigga I'll kill ya, I'll chop ya up
Put ya inside the mattress like drug money nigga
[Jay-Z]
Yeah, I done told you niggaz
9 or 10 times stop f*ckin with me
I done told you niggaz
9 albums, stop f*ckin with me
I done told you niggaz
The 9 on me, stop f*ckin with me
You niggaz must got 9 lives
9th wonder
[Verse One]
Put that knife in ya, take a little bit of life from ya
Am I frightenin ya? Shall I continue?
I put the gun to ya, I let it sing you a song
I let it hum to ya, the other one sing along
Now it's a duet, and you wet, when you check out
the technique from the 2 tecs and I don't need two lips
To blow this like a trumpet you dumb shit
This is a un-usual musical I conductin
You lookin at the black Warren Buffett so all critics can duck sic
I don't care if you C. Delores Tuck-it
Or you Bill O'Reilly, you only rylin me up
For three years, they had me peein out of a cup
Now they bout to free me up, whatchu think I'm gon' be, what?
Rehabilitated, man I still feel hatred
I'm young black and rich so they wanna strip me naked, but
You never had me like Christina Aguiler-y
But catch me down the Westside, drivin like Halle Berry
Or the FDR, in the seat of my car
Screamin out the sunroof death to y'all
You can't kill me, I live forever through these bars
I put the wolves on ya, I put a price on your head
The whole hood'll want ya, you startin to look like bread
I send them boys at ya, I ain't talkin bout Feds
Nigga them body-snatchers, nigga you heard what I said
[Chorus]
I make 'em wait for you 'til five in the mornin
Put your smarts on the side of your garment
Nigga stop f*ckin with me
R. -- I. -- P.
[Interlude]
That's right there nigga, nigga I'm wild
Nigga I keep trash bags with me
Never know when you gotta dump a nigga out
This sin-surr, this some sin-surr SHIT right hurr!
[Verse Two]
Grown man I put hands on you
I dig a hole in the desert, they build The Sands on you
Lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggaz, let Sam tap dance on you
Then, I Sinatra shot ya God damn you
... I put the boy in the box like David Blaine
Let the audience watch, it ain't a thang
Y'all wish I was frontin, I George Bush the button
Front of all you in your car lift up your hood nigga run it
Then lift up your whole hood like you got oil under it
Your boy got the goods y'all don't want nuttin of it
Like, castor oil, I Castor Troy you
Change your face or the bullets change all that for you
... y'all niggaz is targets
Y'all garages for bullets, please don't make me park it
in your upper level, valet a couple strays
from the 38 special, nigga, God bless you
[Chorus]
[Interlude]
Yeah I'm threatening ya, YEAH I'm threatening ya!
Who you thank you dealin with?
They call me Chris, nigga I been makin threats
since I been in kindergarten nigga!
Huh, ask about me, see if you ain't heard
[Verse Three]
When the gun is tucked, untucked, nigga you dies
like numchuks held by the Jet L-I
I'm the one, thus meanin no one must try
No two, no three, no four, know why?
Because one's four-five might blow yo' high
You ain't gotta go to church to get to know yo' God
It's a match made in heaven when I [blaow] 'splay the 7
Put you on the nigga news, UPN at 11
Where you been, you ain't heard, got the word that I'm
[blaow blaow] that I'm so sin-surr?
I'm especially Joe Pesci with a grin
I will kill you, commit suicide, and kill you again
That's right
[Chorus]
[Outro]
Whattup? Motherf*cker I keep three motherf*ckers what?
Nigga I'll throw a Molotov cocktail through your momma's momma's house
Nigga what the - where everybody live!
Undercover nigga take your teeth out your mouth nigga
Chew your food up and put the shit back in your mouth nigga
and help you swallow
Nigga I take a mop handle off nigga
And sweep nigga - hold on, I'll be - nigga what?
Yo what's up pimp this threats
That's right, this the- this - this threats pimp
And I'm serious about mine, I'm so sin-surr
nigga I, nigga I'll kill ya, I'll chop ya up
Put ya inside the mattress like drug money nigga
[Jay-Z]
Yeah, I done told you niggaz
9 or 10 times stop f*ckin with me
I done told you niggaz
9 albums, stop f*ckin with me
I done told you niggaz
The 9 on me, stop f*ckin with me
You niggaz must got 9 lives
9th wonder
[Verse One]
Put that knife in ya, take a little bit of life from ya
Am I frightenin ya? Shall I continue?
I put the gun to ya, I let it sing you a song
I let it hum to ya, the other one sing along
Now it's a duet, and you wet, when you check out
the technique from the 2 tecs and I don't need two lips
To blow this like a trumpet you dumb shit
This is a un-usual musical I conductin
You lookin at the black Warren Buffett so all critics can duck sic
I don't care if you C. Delores Tuck-it
Or you Bill O'Reilly, you only rylin me up
For three years, they had me peein out of a cup
Now they bout to free me up, whatchu think I'm gon' be, what?
Rehabilitated, man I still feel hatred
I'm young black and rich so they wanna strip me naked, but
You never had me like Christina Aguiler-y
But catch me down the Westside, drivin like Halle Berry
Or the FDR, in the seat of my car
Screamin out the sunroof death to y'all
You can't kill me, I live forever through these bars
I put the wolves on ya, I put a price on your head
The whole hood'll want ya, you startin to look like bread
I send them boys at ya, I ain't talkin bout Feds
Nigga them body-snatchers, nigga you heard what I said
[Chorus]
I make 'em wait for you 'til five in the mornin
Put your smarts on the side of your garment
Nigga stop f*ckin with me
R. -- I. -- P.
[Interlude]
That's right there nigga, nigga I'm wild
Nigga I keep trash bags with me
Never know when you gotta dump a nigga out
This sin-surr, this some sin-surr SHIT right hurr!
[Verse Two]
Grown man I put hands on you
I dig a hole in the desert, they build The Sands on you
Lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggaz, let Sam tap dance on you
Then, I Sinatra shot ya God damn you
... I put the boy in the box like David Blaine
Let the audience watch, it ain't a thang
Y'all wish I was frontin, I George Bush the button
Front of all you in your car lift up your hood nigga run it
Then lift up your whole hood like you got oil under it
Your boy got the goods y'all don't want nuttin of it
Like, castor oil, I Castor Troy you
Change your face or the bullets change all that for you
... y'all niggaz is targets
Y'all garages for bullets, please don't make me park it
in your upper level, valet a couple strays
from the 38 special, nigga, God bless you
[Chorus]
[Interlude]
Yeah I'm threatening ya, YEAH I'm threatening ya!
Who you thank you dealin with?
They call me Chris, nigga I been makin threats
since I been in kindergarten nigga!
Huh, ask about me, see if you ain't heard
[Verse Three]
When the gun is tucked, untucked, nigga you dies
like numchuks held by the Jet L-I
I'm the one, thus meanin no one must try
No two, no three, no four, know why?
Because one's four-five might blow yo' high
You ain't gotta go to church to get to know yo' God
It's a match made in heaven when I [blaow] 'splay the 7
Put you on the nigga news, UPN at 11
Where you been, you ain't heard, got the word that I'm
[blaow blaow] that I'm so sin-surr?
I'm especially Joe Pesci with a grin
I will kill you, commit suicide, and kill you again
That's right
[Chorus]
[Outro]
Whattup? Motherf*cker I keep three motherf*ckers what?
Nigga I'll throw a Molotov cocktail through your momma's momma's house
Nigga what the - where everybody live!
Undercover nigga take your teeth out your mouth nigga
Chew your food up and put the shit back in your mouth nigga
and help you swallow
Nigga I take a mop handle off nigga
And sweep nigga - hold on, I'll be - nigga what?
Writer: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, ROBERT S KELLY
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Moment Of Clarity
(Woooooo)
(Yeah)
(Turn the music up turn the lights down i'm in my zone)
[Chorus]
Thank God for grantin me this moment of clarity
This moment of honesty
The world'll feel my truths
Through my Hard Knock Life time
My Gift and The Curse
I gave you volume after volume of my work
So you can feel my truths
I built the Dynasty by being one of the realest niggas out
Way beyond a Reasonable Doubt
(Yall can't fill my shoes)
From my Blueprint beginnings
To that Black Album endin
Listen close you hear what i'm about
Nigga feel my truths
[Verse One]
When pop died
Didn't cry
Didn't know him that well
Between him doin Heroine
And me doin Crack sales
With that in the egg shell
Standin at the tabernacle
Rather the church
Pretending to be hurt
Wouldn't work
So a smirk was all on my face
Like damn that mans face was just like my face
So pop i forgive you
For all the shit that i live through
It wasn't all your fault
Homie you got caught
And to the same game i fault
That Uncle Ray lost
My big brothers and so many others i saw
I'm just glad we got to see each other
Talk and re-meet each other
Save a place in Heaven
Til the next time we meet forever
[Chorus]
[Verse Two]
The music business hate me
Cause the industry ain't make me
Hustlers and boosters embrace me
And the music i be makin
I dumb down for my audience
And double my dollars
They criticize me for it
Yet they all yell "Holla"
If skills sold
Truth be told
I'd probably be
Lyricly
Talib Kweli
Truthfully
I wanna rhyme like Common Sense
(But i did five Mil)
I ain't been rhymin like Common Sense
When your sense got that much in common
And you been hustlin since
Your inception
F*ck perception
Go with what makes sense
Since
I know what i'm up against
We as rappers must decide what's most impor-tant
And i can't help the poor if i'm one of them
So i got rich and gave back
To me that's the win, win
The next time you see the homie and his rims spin
Just know my mind is workin just like them
(The rims that is)
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
My homie Sigel's on a tier
Where no tears should fall
Cause he was on the block where no squares get off
See in my inner circle all we do is ball
Til we all got triangles on our wall
He ain't just rappin for the platinum
Yall record
I recall
Cause i really been there before
Four scores and seven years ago
Prepared to flow
Prepare for war
I shall fear no man
You don't hear me though
These words ain't just paired to go
In one ear out the other ear
NO
YO
My balls and my word is alls i have
What you gonna do to me?
Nigga scars'll scab
What you gonna box me homie?
I can dodge and jab
Three shots couldn't touch me
Thank God for that
I'm strong enough to carry Biggie Smalls on my back
And the whole BK nigga holla back
[Chorus]
(Yeah)
(Turn the music up turn the lights down i'm in my zone)
[Chorus]
Thank God for grantin me this moment of clarity
This moment of honesty
The world'll feel my truths
Through my Hard Knock Life time
My Gift and The Curse
I gave you volume after volume of my work
So you can feel my truths
I built the Dynasty by being one of the realest niggas out
Way beyond a Reasonable Doubt
(Yall can't fill my shoes)
From my Blueprint beginnings
To that Black Album endin
Listen close you hear what i'm about
Nigga feel my truths
[Verse One]
When pop died
Didn't cry
Didn't know him that well
Between him doin Heroine
And me doin Crack sales
With that in the egg shell
Standin at the tabernacle
Rather the church
Pretending to be hurt
Wouldn't work
So a smirk was all on my face
Like damn that mans face was just like my face
So pop i forgive you
For all the shit that i live through
It wasn't all your fault
Homie you got caught
And to the same game i fault
That Uncle Ray lost
My big brothers and so many others i saw
I'm just glad we got to see each other
Talk and re-meet each other
Save a place in Heaven
Til the next time we meet forever
[Chorus]
[Verse Two]
The music business hate me
Cause the industry ain't make me
Hustlers and boosters embrace me
And the music i be makin
I dumb down for my audience
And double my dollars
They criticize me for it
Yet they all yell "Holla"
If skills sold
Truth be told
I'd probably be
Lyricly
Talib Kweli
Truthfully
I wanna rhyme like Common Sense
(But i did five Mil)
I ain't been rhymin like Common Sense
When your sense got that much in common
And you been hustlin since
Your inception
F*ck perception
Go with what makes sense
Since
I know what i'm up against
We as rappers must decide what's most impor-tant
And i can't help the poor if i'm one of them
So i got rich and gave back
To me that's the win, win
The next time you see the homie and his rims spin
Just know my mind is workin just like them
(The rims that is)
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
My homie Sigel's on a tier
Where no tears should fall
Cause he was on the block where no squares get off
See in my inner circle all we do is ball
Til we all got triangles on our wall
He ain't just rappin for the platinum
Yall record
I recall
Cause i really been there before
Four scores and seven years ago
Prepared to flow
Prepare for war
I shall fear no man
You don't hear me though
These words ain't just paired to go
In one ear out the other ear
NO
YO
My balls and my word is alls i have
What you gonna do to me?
Nigga scars'll scab
What you gonna box me homie?
I can dodge and jab
Three shots couldn't touch me
Thank God for that
I'm strong enough to carry Biggie Smalls on my back
And the whole BK nigga holla back
[Chorus]
Writer: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, MARSHALL B III MATHERS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
99 Problems
If you're having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one
I got the rap patrol on the gat patrol
Foes that want to make sure my casket's closed
Rap critics that say he's "Money, cash, hoes"
I'm from the hood, stupid, what type of facts are those?
If you grew up with holes in your Zapatos
You'd celebrate the minute you was having dough
I'm like, "F*ck critics" you can kiss my whole asshole
If you don't like my lyrics, you can press fast forward
Got beef with radio if I don't play they show
They don't play my hits, well, I don't give a shit, so
Rap mags try and use my black ass
So advertisers can give 'em more cash for ads, f*ckers
I don't know what you take me as
Or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has
I'm from rags to riches, niggas I ain't dumb
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
The year's '94 and my trunk is raw
In my rearview mirror is the motherf*cking law
I got two choices y'all, pull over the car or
Bounce on the devil, put the pedal to the floor
Now I ain't trying to see no highway chase with Jake
Plus I got a few dollars I can fight the case
So I, pull over to the side of the road
I heard, "Son, do you know why I'm stopping you for?"
"'Cause I'm young and I'm black and my hat's real low
Do I look like a mind reader, sir? I don't know
Am I under arrest or should I guess some more?"
"Well you was doing fifty-five in a fifty-four" (uh huh)
"License and registration and step out of the car"
"Are you carrying a weapon on you, I know a lot of you are"
I ain't stepping out of shit, all my papers legit
"Well do you mind if I look around the car a little bit?"
Well my glove compartment is locked, so is the trunk in the back
And I know my rights so you goin' need a warrant for that
"Aren't you sharp as a tack? You some type of lawyer or something?"
"Somebody important or something?"
Well, I ain't passed the bar, but I know a little bit
Enough that you won't illegally search my shit
"Well we'll see how smart you are when the K-9 come"
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Now once upon a time not too long ago
A nigga like myself had to strong-arm a ho
This is not a ho in the sense of having a pussy
But a pussy having no goddamn sense try and push me
I tried to ignore 'em, talk to the Lord
Pray for 'em, 'cause some fools just love to perform
You know the type, loud as a motorbike
But wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight
The only thing that's goin' happen is I'ma get to clapping and
He and his boys goin' be yapping to the Captain
And there I go trapped in the Kit-Kat again
Back through the system with the riff-raff again
Fiends on the floor scratching again
Paparazzi's with they cameras, snapping 'em
D.A. tried to give a nigga shaft again
Half a mil' for bail 'cause I'm African
All because this fool was harassing them
Trying to play the boy like he's saccharine
But ain't nothing sweet 'bout how I hold my gun
I got ninety-nine problems being a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety-nine problems and a bitch ain't one
You're crazy for this one, Rick, it's your boy
I got ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one
I got the rap patrol on the gat patrol
Foes that want to make sure my casket's closed
Rap critics that say he's "Money, cash, hoes"
I'm from the hood, stupid, what type of facts are those?
If you grew up with holes in your Zapatos
You'd celebrate the minute you was having dough
I'm like, "F*ck critics" you can kiss my whole asshole
If you don't like my lyrics, you can press fast forward
Got beef with radio if I don't play they show
They don't play my hits, well, I don't give a shit, so
Rap mags try and use my black ass
So advertisers can give 'em more cash for ads, f*ckers
I don't know what you take me as
Or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has
I'm from rags to riches, niggas I ain't dumb
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
The year's '94 and my trunk is raw
In my rearview mirror is the motherf*cking law
I got two choices y'all, pull over the car or
Bounce on the devil, put the pedal to the floor
Now I ain't trying to see no highway chase with Jake
Plus I got a few dollars I can fight the case
So I, pull over to the side of the road
I heard, "Son, do you know why I'm stopping you for?"
"'Cause I'm young and I'm black and my hat's real low
Do I look like a mind reader, sir? I don't know
Am I under arrest or should I guess some more?"
"Well you was doing fifty-five in a fifty-four" (uh huh)
"License and registration and step out of the car"
"Are you carrying a weapon on you, I know a lot of you are"
I ain't stepping out of shit, all my papers legit
"Well do you mind if I look around the car a little bit?"
Well my glove compartment is locked, so is the trunk in the back
And I know my rights so you goin' need a warrant for that
"Aren't you sharp as a tack? You some type of lawyer or something?"
"Somebody important or something?"
Well, I ain't passed the bar, but I know a little bit
Enough that you won't illegally search my shit
"Well we'll see how smart you are when the K-9 come"
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Now once upon a time not too long ago
A nigga like myself had to strong-arm a ho
This is not a ho in the sense of having a pussy
But a pussy having no goddamn sense try and push me
I tried to ignore 'em, talk to the Lord
Pray for 'em, 'cause some fools just love to perform
You know the type, loud as a motorbike
But wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight
The only thing that's goin' happen is I'ma get to clapping and
He and his boys goin' be yapping to the Captain
And there I go trapped in the Kit-Kat again
Back through the system with the riff-raff again
Fiends on the floor scratching again
Paparazzi's with they cameras, snapping 'em
D.A. tried to give a nigga shaft again
Half a mil' for bail 'cause I'm African
All because this fool was harassing them
Trying to play the boy like he's saccharine
But ain't nothing sweet 'bout how I hold my gun
I got ninety-nine problems being a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one, hit me
Having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got ninety-nine problems and a bitch ain't one
You're crazy for this one, Rick, it's your boy
Writer: Tracy Lauren Marrow, Norman Landsberg, Felix Pappalardi, Rick Rubin, Leslie Weinstein, John Ventura, Shawn Carter, Alphonso Henderson, Felix A. Pappalardi, George Jr. Clinton, John Elis Ventura, Shawn Corey Carter, Tracey Lauren Marrow, Weinstein A. Leslie, William H. Squier
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Public Service Announcement (Interlude)
This is a public service announcement
Sponsored by Just Blaze and the good folks at Roc-A-Fella Records
"Fellow Americans, it is with the utmost pride and sincerity
That I present this recording, as a living testament and recollection
Of history in the making during our generation"
Allow me to reintroduce myself
My name is Hov (oh), H to the O-V
I used to move snowflakes by the O-Z
I guess even back then you can call me
CEO of the R-O-C, Hov
Fresh out the frying pan into the fire
I be the music biz number one supplier
Flier than a piece of paper bearing my name
Got the hottest chick in the game wearing my chain, that's right
Hov (oh), not DOC
But similar to them letters, "No One Can Do it Better"
I check cheddar like a food inspector
My homey Strict told me, "Dude, finish your breakfast"
So that's what I'ma do, take you back to the dude
With the Lexus, fast-forward the jewels and the necklace
Let me tell you dudes what I do to protect this
Shoot at you actors like movie directors
This ain't a movie, dog (oh, shit)
"Now before I finish, let me just say
I did not come here to show out, did not come here to impress you
Because to tell you the truth, when I leave here, I'm gone
And I don't care what you think about me, but just remember
When it hits the fan, brother, whether it's next year, ten years
Twenty years from now, you'll never be able to say
That these brothers lied to you Jack
Ving ain't lie
I done came through the block in everything that's fly
I'm like Che Guevara with bling on, I'm complex
I never claimed to have wings on
Nigga, I get my "by any means" on whenever there's a drought
Get your umbrellas out because that's when I brainstorm
You can blame Shawn, but I ain't invent the game
I just rolled the dice, trying to get some change
And I do it twice, ain't no sense in me
Lying as if I am a different man
And I could blame my environment but
There ain't no reason why I be buying expensive chains
Hope you don't think users are the only abusers
Niggas getting high within the game
If you do then, how would you explain?
I'm ten years removed, still the vibe is in my veins
I got a hustler spirit, nigga, period
Check out my hat, yo, peep the way I wear it
Check out my swag, yo, I walk like a ballplayer
No matter where you go, you are what you are, player
And you can try to change but that's just the top layer
Man, you was who you was 'fore you got here
Only God can judge me, so I'm gone
Either love me or leave me alone
Now, back to our regularly scheduled program
L'Album Noir: The Black Album
Sponsored by Just Blaze and the good folks at Roc-A-Fella Records
"Fellow Americans, it is with the utmost pride and sincerity
That I present this recording, as a living testament and recollection
Of history in the making during our generation"
Allow me to reintroduce myself
My name is Hov (oh), H to the O-V
I used to move snowflakes by the O-Z
I guess even back then you can call me
CEO of the R-O-C, Hov
Fresh out the frying pan into the fire
I be the music biz number one supplier
Flier than a piece of paper bearing my name
Got the hottest chick in the game wearing my chain, that's right
Hov (oh), not DOC
But similar to them letters, "No One Can Do it Better"
I check cheddar like a food inspector
My homey Strict told me, "Dude, finish your breakfast"
So that's what I'ma do, take you back to the dude
With the Lexus, fast-forward the jewels and the necklace
Let me tell you dudes what I do to protect this
Shoot at you actors like movie directors
This ain't a movie, dog (oh, shit)
"Now before I finish, let me just say
I did not come here to show out, did not come here to impress you
Because to tell you the truth, when I leave here, I'm gone
And I don't care what you think about me, but just remember
When it hits the fan, brother, whether it's next year, ten years
Twenty years from now, you'll never be able to say
That these brothers lied to you Jack
Ving ain't lie
I done came through the block in everything that's fly
I'm like Che Guevara with bling on, I'm complex
I never claimed to have wings on
Nigga, I get my "by any means" on whenever there's a drought
Get your umbrellas out because that's when I brainstorm
You can blame Shawn, but I ain't invent the game
I just rolled the dice, trying to get some change
And I do it twice, ain't no sense in me
Lying as if I am a different man
And I could blame my environment but
There ain't no reason why I be buying expensive chains
Hope you don't think users are the only abusers
Niggas getting high within the game
If you do then, how would you explain?
I'm ten years removed, still the vibe is in my veins
I got a hustler spirit, nigga, period
Check out my hat, yo, peep the way I wear it
Check out my swag, yo, I walk like a ballplayer
No matter where you go, you are what you are, player
And you can try to change but that's just the top layer
Man, you was who you was 'fore you got here
Only God can judge me, so I'm gone
Either love me or leave me alone
Now, back to our regularly scheduled program
L'Album Noir: The Black Album
Writer: Raymond Levin, Shawn Corey Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © SC PUBLISHING DBA SECRETLY CANADIAN PUB., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © SC PUBLISHING DBA SECRETLY CANADIAN PUB., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Justify My Thug
Uhh, this feel right right here Quik
It's like it's 'sposed to happen this one right here
Young! God damn..
.. let me justify my thug on this one right here
[Verse One: Jay-Z]
It goes one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock rock
Five six seven o'clock, eight o'clock rock
Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, the party bout to pop
Then - Roc-A-Fella y'all, it's your boy S. Dot
And I ain't never been to jail; I ain't never pay a nigga
to do no dirt for me I was scared to do myself
I will never tell even if it means sittin in a cell
I ain't never ran, never will
I ain't never been smacked; a nigga better keep his hands
to himself or get clapped for what's under that man's belt
I never asked for nothin I don't demand of myself
Honesty, loyalty, friends and then wealth
Death before dishonor and I tell you what else
I tighten my belt 'fore I beg for help
Foolish pride is what held me together through the years
I wasn't felt which is why I ain't never played myself
I just play the hand I'm dealt, I can't say I've never knelt
before God and asked for better cards at times to no avail
But I never sat back feelin sorry for myself
If you don't give me heaven I'll raise hell
'Til it's heaven
[Chorus - imitating Madonna]
Justify my thug!
"For you!" - [Run-D.M.C.]
My thug.. (hoping..)
My thug.. (praying..) for you
to justify my thug!
My thug.. (hoping..)
My thug.. (praying..) for you..
"For you! Fresh" - [Run-D.M.C.]
[Verse Two: Jay-Z]
Now if you shoot my dog, I'ma kill yo' cat
Just the unwritten laws in rap - know dat
For every action there's a reaction, don't have me relapsin
Relaxin's what I'm about, but about mine
Don't be actin like you can't see street action
Take me back to +Reasonable Doubt+ time
You see my mind's on the finish line, facin the wreck
I put my muh'f*ckin faith in the tec, tell Satan not yet
You understand I am chasin my breath
I am narrowly escapin my death, oh yes
I am the Michael Schumacher of the Roc roster
Travellin Mach 5, barrelin, my power can stop God
God forgive me but I can't let them deliver me to you
Until, I won this race, then eventually
My engine gon' burn out, I get whatever is meant for me
However it turns out fine - red line!
[Chorus]
[Verse Three: Jay-Z]
They say an eye for an eye, we both lose our sight
And two wrongs don't make a right
But when you been wrong and you know all along that it's just one life
At what point does one fight? (Good question right!)
'Fore you knock the war, try to put your dogs in it
Ten-and-a-halfs, for a minute-and-a-half
Bet that stops all the grinnin and the laughs
When you play the game of life and the win ain't in the bag
When your options is none and the pen is all you have
or the block, niggaz standin tight, there's limits on the ave
Tryin to cop or shot-call theyself cleansin in the cash
But can't put they name on paper cause, then you on blast
Mr. President, there's drugs in our residence
Tell me what you want me to do, come break bread with us
Mr. Governor, I swear there's a cover up
Every other corner there's a liquor store - f*ck is up?
[Chorus]
It's like it's 'sposed to happen this one right here
Young! God damn..
.. let me justify my thug on this one right here
[Verse One: Jay-Z]
It goes one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock rock
Five six seven o'clock, eight o'clock rock
Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, the party bout to pop
Then - Roc-A-Fella y'all, it's your boy S. Dot
And I ain't never been to jail; I ain't never pay a nigga
to do no dirt for me I was scared to do myself
I will never tell even if it means sittin in a cell
I ain't never ran, never will
I ain't never been smacked; a nigga better keep his hands
to himself or get clapped for what's under that man's belt
I never asked for nothin I don't demand of myself
Honesty, loyalty, friends and then wealth
Death before dishonor and I tell you what else
I tighten my belt 'fore I beg for help
Foolish pride is what held me together through the years
I wasn't felt which is why I ain't never played myself
I just play the hand I'm dealt, I can't say I've never knelt
before God and asked for better cards at times to no avail
But I never sat back feelin sorry for myself
If you don't give me heaven I'll raise hell
'Til it's heaven
[Chorus - imitating Madonna]
Justify my thug!
"For you!" - [Run-D.M.C.]
My thug.. (hoping..)
My thug.. (praying..) for you
to justify my thug!
My thug.. (hoping..)
My thug.. (praying..) for you..
"For you! Fresh" - [Run-D.M.C.]
[Verse Two: Jay-Z]
Now if you shoot my dog, I'ma kill yo' cat
Just the unwritten laws in rap - know dat
For every action there's a reaction, don't have me relapsin
Relaxin's what I'm about, but about mine
Don't be actin like you can't see street action
Take me back to +Reasonable Doubt+ time
You see my mind's on the finish line, facin the wreck
I put my muh'f*ckin faith in the tec, tell Satan not yet
You understand I am chasin my breath
I am narrowly escapin my death, oh yes
I am the Michael Schumacher of the Roc roster
Travellin Mach 5, barrelin, my power can stop God
God forgive me but I can't let them deliver me to you
Until, I won this race, then eventually
My engine gon' burn out, I get whatever is meant for me
However it turns out fine - red line!
[Chorus]
[Verse Three: Jay-Z]
They say an eye for an eye, we both lose our sight
And two wrongs don't make a right
But when you been wrong and you know all along that it's just one life
At what point does one fight? (Good question right!)
'Fore you knock the war, try to put your dogs in it
Ten-and-a-halfs, for a minute-and-a-half
Bet that stops all the grinnin and the laughs
When you play the game of life and the win ain't in the bag
When your options is none and the pen is all you have
or the block, niggaz standin tight, there's limits on the ave
Tryin to cop or shot-call theyself cleansin in the cash
But can't put they name on paper cause, then you on blast
Mr. President, there's drugs in our residence
Tell me what you want me to do, come break bread with us
Mr. Governor, I swear there's a cover up
Every other corner there's a liquor store - f*ck is up?
[Chorus]
Writer: DARRYL MATTHEWS MCDANIELS, JOSEPH WARD SIMMONS, LAWRENCE SMITH, ERIC T. SADLER, DAVID MARVIN BLAKE, SHAWN C. CARTER, LENNY KRAVITZ, INGRID JULIA CHAVEZ, MADONNA L. CICCONE, JAMES HENRY BOXLEY III, CARLTON DOUGLAS RIDENHOUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Lucifer
[Chorus:]
Lucifer, dawn of de morning! I'm gonna, chase you out of Earth
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning...
(I'm from the murder capital, where we murder for capital)
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning! I'm gonna, chase you out of Earth
(Kanyeeze you did it again, you a genius nigga!)
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning...
So you niggas change your attitude
For they askin what happened to you
[Verse One]
Lord forgive him
He got them dark forces in him
But he also got a rightous cause for sinnin
Them a murder me so i gotta murder them first
Emergency doctors performin procedures
Jesus
I ain't tryin to be facetious
But "Vengance is mine" said the Lord
You said it better than all
Leave niggas on deaths door
Breathin off res-por-rators
for killin my best boy, HATERS
On perminate hiatus as i skate
In the Maybach Benz
Flya the Sanna Lathan
Pumpin "Brown Sugar" by D'Angelo
In Los Angeles
Like an evangelist
I can introduce you to your maker
Bring you closer to nature
Ashes after they cremate you bastards
Hope you been readin your psalms and chapters
Payin your ties being good Catholics
I'm commin
[Chorus:]
Lucifer, dawn of de morning! I'm gonna, chase you out of Earth
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning...
(I'm from the murder capital, where we murder for capital)
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning! I'm gonna, chase you out of Earth
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning...
So you niggas change your attitude
For they askin what happened to you
[Verse Two]
Yes
This is Holly war
I wet cha all with the Holly water
Spray from the Hetckler Koch auto
Matic all the static shall cease to exist
Like a sematical i throw a couple at you
Take six
Spread love to all of my dead thugs
I'll pour out a little Louie til i head above
Yes Sir
And when i perish
The meek shall inherit the earth
Until that time it's on a poppin Church
Like Don Bishop
The fifth upon cock either
Lift up your soul or give the Holly ghost please
I leave ya in somebodys Catedrial
And stuntin like Evil Kenevil
I'll let you see where that bright light lead you
The more you talk the more you irkin us
The more you gonna need memorial services
The Black Albums second verse is like
Devil's Pie please save some dessert for us
Man i gotta get my soul right
I gotta get these Devils out my life
These cowards gonna make a nigga ride
They won't be happy til somebody dies
Man i gotta get my soul right
'For i'm locked up for my whole life
Evertime it seems it's all right
Somebody want they soul to rise
(I'll chase you off of this Earth)
[Verse Three]
I got dreams of holdin a Nine milla
To Bobs killa
Askin him "why?" as my eyes fill up
These days i can't wake up with a dry pillow
Gone but not forgotten holmes i still feel ya
SO...Curse the day that birthed the bastard
Who caused your Church mass
Reverse the crash
Reverse the blast
And reverse the car
Reverse the day, and there you are
Bob Allah
Lord forgive him we all have sined
But Bobs a good dude please let him in
And if you feel in my heart that i long for revenge
Please blame it on the sun of the mournin
Thanks Again
Lucifer, dawn of de morning! I'm gonna, chase you out of Earth
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning...
(I'm from the murder capital, where we murder for capital)
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning! I'm gonna, chase you out of Earth
(Kanyeeze you did it again, you a genius nigga!)
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning...
So you niggas change your attitude
For they askin what happened to you
[Verse One]
Lord forgive him
He got them dark forces in him
But he also got a rightous cause for sinnin
Them a murder me so i gotta murder them first
Emergency doctors performin procedures
Jesus
I ain't tryin to be facetious
But "Vengance is mine" said the Lord
You said it better than all
Leave niggas on deaths door
Breathin off res-por-rators
for killin my best boy, HATERS
On perminate hiatus as i skate
In the Maybach Benz
Flya the Sanna Lathan
Pumpin "Brown Sugar" by D'Angelo
In Los Angeles
Like an evangelist
I can introduce you to your maker
Bring you closer to nature
Ashes after they cremate you bastards
Hope you been readin your psalms and chapters
Payin your ties being good Catholics
I'm commin
[Chorus:]
Lucifer, dawn of de morning! I'm gonna, chase you out of Earth
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning...
(I'm from the murder capital, where we murder for capital)
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning! I'm gonna, chase you out of Earth
Lucifer Lucifer, dawn of de morning...
So you niggas change your attitude
For they askin what happened to you
[Verse Two]
Yes
This is Holly war
I wet cha all with the Holly water
Spray from the Hetckler Koch auto
Matic all the static shall cease to exist
Like a sematical i throw a couple at you
Take six
Spread love to all of my dead thugs
I'll pour out a little Louie til i head above
Yes Sir
And when i perish
The meek shall inherit the earth
Until that time it's on a poppin Church
Like Don Bishop
The fifth upon cock either
Lift up your soul or give the Holly ghost please
I leave ya in somebodys Catedrial
And stuntin like Evil Kenevil
I'll let you see where that bright light lead you
The more you talk the more you irkin us
The more you gonna need memorial services
The Black Albums second verse is like
Devil's Pie please save some dessert for us
Man i gotta get my soul right
I gotta get these Devils out my life
These cowards gonna make a nigga ride
They won't be happy til somebody dies
Man i gotta get my soul right
'For i'm locked up for my whole life
Evertime it seems it's all right
Somebody want they soul to rise
(I'll chase you off of this Earth)
[Verse Three]
I got dreams of holdin a Nine milla
To Bobs killa
Askin him "why?" as my eyes fill up
These days i can't wake up with a dry pillow
Gone but not forgotten holmes i still feel ya
SO...Curse the day that birthed the bastard
Who caused your Church mass
Reverse the crash
Reverse the blast
And reverse the car
Reverse the day, and there you are
Bob Allah
Lord forgive him we all have sined
But Bobs a good dude please let him in
And if you feel in my heart that i long for revenge
Please blame it on the sun of the mournin
Thanks Again
Writer: SHAWN C CARTER, RAINFORD HUGH PERRY, MAXIE SMITH, KANYE WEST
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, THE ROYALTY NETWORK INC.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, THE ROYALTY NETWORK INC.
Allure
Young! For life
Once again it's the life, yessss
(I don't know why, I.. get so high on)
It's intoxicatin man, y'all don't know why you do what you do
(Get so high on, get so high - high off the life)
[Verse One]
The allure of breakin the law
Is always too much for me to ever ignore
I gotta thing for them big body Benzes, it dulls my senses
In love with a V-Dub engine
Man I'm high off life, f*ck it I'm wasted
Bey Venay kicks, or them Marvin Kaye wrists
My women friend get tennis bracelets
Trips to Venice, get they winters replaced with
the sun, it ain't even fun no more I'm jaded
Man, it's just a game, I just play it to play it
I put my feet in the footprints left to me
Without sayin a word, the ghetto's got a mental telepathy
Man my brother hustled so, naturally
Up next is me, but what perplexes me
Shit I know how this movie ends, still I play
the starrin role in "Hovito's Way"
[Chorus]
It's just life, I solemnly swear
To change my approach, stop shavin coke
Stay away from hoes, put down the toast
Cause I be doin the most.. oh no!
But every time I felt that was that, it called me right back
It called me right back, man it called me right back - oh no!
[Verse Two]
I'm like a Russian mobster, drinkin distilled vodka
'Til I'm under the field with Hoffa, it's real
Pillow-top him like a toupee
Mix the water, with the soda
Turn the pot up make a souflee
All of y'all can get it like group-ays in your 2-way
I'm livin proof that crime do pay
Say hooray to the bad guy, and all the broads
puttin cars in they name for the stars of the game
Puttin 'caine in they bras and their tomorrows on the train
All in the name of love
Just to see that love locked in chains and the family came
over the house to take back, everything that they claimed
Or even the worst pain is the distress
Learnin you're the mistress only after that love gets slain
And the anger and the sorrow mixed up leads to mistrust
Now it gets tough to ever love a-gain
But the allure of the game, keeps callin your name
To all the Lauras of the world, I feel your pain
To all the Christies in every cities and Tiffany Lanes
We all hustlers, in love with the same thang
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
I never felt more alive than ridin shotgun
In Cline's green 5 until the cops pulled guns
And I tried to smoke weed to give me the fix I need
what the game did to my pulse, with no results
And you can treat your nose and still won't come close
The game is a lightbulb with eleventy-million volts
And I'm just a mark, addicted to the floss
And doors lift from the floor and the tops come off
By any means necessary, whatever the cost
Even if it means lives is lost..
And I can't explain why, I just love to get high
Drink life, smoke the blueberry sky, blink twice
I'm in the blueberry 5, you blink three times
I may not even be alive
How mean James Dean couldn't escape the allure
Dyin young, leavin a good lookin corpse
Of course
[Chorus]
Once again it's the life
I said it's the life
Once again it's the life - oh no!
(I don't why I) why I (get so high on)
get so (get so high on) uh-huh
(get so high - high off the life!)
Hahahahahahaha - woo!
Once again it's the life, yessss
(I don't know why, I.. get so high on)
It's intoxicatin man, y'all don't know why you do what you do
(Get so high on, get so high - high off the life)
[Verse One]
The allure of breakin the law
Is always too much for me to ever ignore
I gotta thing for them big body Benzes, it dulls my senses
In love with a V-Dub engine
Man I'm high off life, f*ck it I'm wasted
Bey Venay kicks, or them Marvin Kaye wrists
My women friend get tennis bracelets
Trips to Venice, get they winters replaced with
the sun, it ain't even fun no more I'm jaded
Man, it's just a game, I just play it to play it
I put my feet in the footprints left to me
Without sayin a word, the ghetto's got a mental telepathy
Man my brother hustled so, naturally
Up next is me, but what perplexes me
Shit I know how this movie ends, still I play
the starrin role in "Hovito's Way"
[Chorus]
It's just life, I solemnly swear
To change my approach, stop shavin coke
Stay away from hoes, put down the toast
Cause I be doin the most.. oh no!
But every time I felt that was that, it called me right back
It called me right back, man it called me right back - oh no!
[Verse Two]
I'm like a Russian mobster, drinkin distilled vodka
'Til I'm under the field with Hoffa, it's real
Pillow-top him like a toupee
Mix the water, with the soda
Turn the pot up make a souflee
All of y'all can get it like group-ays in your 2-way
I'm livin proof that crime do pay
Say hooray to the bad guy, and all the broads
puttin cars in they name for the stars of the game
Puttin 'caine in they bras and their tomorrows on the train
All in the name of love
Just to see that love locked in chains and the family came
over the house to take back, everything that they claimed
Or even the worst pain is the distress
Learnin you're the mistress only after that love gets slain
And the anger and the sorrow mixed up leads to mistrust
Now it gets tough to ever love a-gain
But the allure of the game, keeps callin your name
To all the Lauras of the world, I feel your pain
To all the Christies in every cities and Tiffany Lanes
We all hustlers, in love with the same thang
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
I never felt more alive than ridin shotgun
In Cline's green 5 until the cops pulled guns
And I tried to smoke weed to give me the fix I need
what the game did to my pulse, with no results
And you can treat your nose and still won't come close
The game is a lightbulb with eleventy-million volts
And I'm just a mark, addicted to the floss
And doors lift from the floor and the tops come off
By any means necessary, whatever the cost
Even if it means lives is lost..
And I can't explain why, I just love to get high
Drink life, smoke the blueberry sky, blink twice
I'm in the blueberry 5, you blink three times
I may not even be alive
How mean James Dean couldn't escape the allure
Dyin young, leavin a good lookin corpse
Of course
[Chorus]
Once again it's the life
I said it's the life
Once again it's the life - oh no!
(I don't why I) why I (get so high on)
get so (get so high on) uh-huh
(get so high - high off the life!)
Hahahahahahaha - woo!
Writer: PHARRELL L WILLIAMS, SHAWN CARTER, CHAD HUGO
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
My 1st Song
Y'all wanna know why he don't stop
Y'all wanna know why he don't flop
Let me tell you people why
Came from the bottom of the block I
When I was born, it was sworn, I was never gon' be shit
Had to pull the opposite out this bitch
Had to get my ride on
Eyes on the prize, Shawn knew I had to
Had to had to get these chips
Had to make moves like Olajuwon
Started out selling dimes and nicks
Graduated to a brick
No exaggeration, my infatuation with the strip
Legendary like a schoolboy
Crushin' merely nearly every every chick
Heavy shit, that's how schoolboy got whipped
And got left on some, Just Me, Myself and I
On some Trugoy shit
Had to go to a place of
To a place of no return
Had to play with fire and get burned
Only way the boy ever gon' learn
Had to lay way in the cut, til I finally got my turn
Now I'm on top in the spot that I earned
It's my life
It's my pain and my struggle
The song that I sing to you it's my everything
Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first
And my thirst is the same as when I came
It's my joy and my tears and the laughter it brings to me
It's my everything
Like I never rode in a limo
Like I just dropped flows to a demo
Like it's ninety-two again and
And I got O's in the rental
Back in the stu' again
No prob' living was a whole lot simpler
When you think back, you thought that
You would never make it this far, then you
Take advantage of the luck you handed
Or the talent, you been given
Ain't no, half stepping, ain't no, no slipping
Ain't no different from a block that's hitting
Gotta get it while the getting's good
Gotta strike while the iron's hot, before you stop
Then you gotta bid it, good riddance
Goodbye, this is my second major breakup
My first was, with a pager
With a hooptie, a cookpot, and the 'caine
This one's with the stu, with the stage, with the fortune
Maybe not the fortune, but certainly the fame
It's my life
It's my pain and my struggle
The song that I sing to you it's my everything
Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first
And my thirst is the same as when I came
It's my joy and my tears and the laughter it brings to me
It's my everything
Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first
And my thirst is the same as when I came
Y'all wanna know why he don't flop
Let me tell you people why
Came from the bottom of the block I
When I was born, it was sworn, I was never gon' be shit
Had to pull the opposite out this bitch
Had to get my ride on
Eyes on the prize, Shawn knew I had to
Had to had to get these chips
Had to make moves like Olajuwon
Started out selling dimes and nicks
Graduated to a brick
No exaggeration, my infatuation with the strip
Legendary like a schoolboy
Crushin' merely nearly every every chick
Heavy shit, that's how schoolboy got whipped
And got left on some, Just Me, Myself and I
On some Trugoy shit
Had to go to a place of
To a place of no return
Had to play with fire and get burned
Only way the boy ever gon' learn
Had to lay way in the cut, til I finally got my turn
Now I'm on top in the spot that I earned
It's my life
It's my pain and my struggle
The song that I sing to you it's my everything
Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first
And my thirst is the same as when I came
It's my joy and my tears and the laughter it brings to me
It's my everything
Like I never rode in a limo
Like I just dropped flows to a demo
Like it's ninety-two again and
And I got O's in the rental
Back in the stu' again
No prob' living was a whole lot simpler
When you think back, you thought that
You would never make it this far, then you
Take advantage of the luck you handed
Or the talent, you been given
Ain't no, half stepping, ain't no, no slipping
Ain't no different from a block that's hitting
Gotta get it while the getting's good
Gotta strike while the iron's hot, before you stop
Then you gotta bid it, good riddance
Goodbye, this is my second major breakup
My first was, with a pager
With a hooptie, a cookpot, and the 'caine
This one's with the stu, with the stage, with the fortune
Maybe not the fortune, but certainly the fame
It's my life
It's my pain and my struggle
The song that I sing to you it's my everything
Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first
And my thirst is the same as when I came
It's my joy and my tears and the laughter it brings to me
It's my everything
Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first
And my thirst is the same as when I came
Writer: Oscar Germain De La Fuente, Shawn Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
The Black Album is the eighth studio album by American rapper Jay-Z. It was released on November 14, 2003, through Roc-A-Fella Records and Def Jam Recordings. It was advertised as his final album before retiring, which is also a recurring theme throughout the songs, although Jay-Z resumed his recording career in 2005. For the album, Jay-Z wanted to enlist a different producer for each song, working with Just Blaze, Kanye West, the Neptunes, Eminem, DJ Quik, Timbaland, 9th Wonder and Rick Rubin, among others. The album also features a guest appearance by Pharrell Williams.
The Black Album was promoted with a retirement tour by Jay-Z. It was also supported by three singles: "99 Problems", also the Billboard top-ten hits "Change Clothes" and "Dirt off Your Shoulder". The album received widespread acclaim from music critics and was a massive commercial success. It debuted at number one on the US Billboard 200, selling 463,000 copies in its first week.
It became Jay-Z's top selling record of the 2000s decade, and was certified quadruple platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) in 2023. The songs "Encore", "Dirt off Your Shoulder", and "99 Problems" are all on the mashup EP, Collision Course with Linkin Park.
Performed By:
Jay-ZThe Black Album was promoted with a retirement tour by Jay-Z. It was also supported by three singles: "99 Problems", also the Billboard top-ten hits "Change Clothes" and "Dirt off Your Shoulder". The album received widespread acclaim from music critics and was a massive commercial success. It debuted at number one on the US Billboard 200, selling 463,000 copies in its first week.
It became Jay-Z's top selling record of the 2000s decade, and was certified quadruple platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) in 2023. The songs "Encore", "Dirt off Your Shoulder", and "99 Problems" are all on the mashup EP, Collision Course with Linkin Park.
Genre(s): East Coast hip hop
Length: 55:12
Released: November 14th, 2003
Year: 2003