Marcy Me

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Jay-Z

Shawn Corey Carter (born December 4, 1969), better known by his stage name Jay-Z, is an American rapper, record producer, entrepreneur, and occasional actor. He is one of the most financially successful hip hop artists and entrepreneurs in America. In 2012, Forbes estimated Carter's net worth at nearly $500 million. He has sold approximately 50 million albums worldwide, while receiving fourteen Grammy Awards for his musical work, and numerous additional nominations. He is consistently ranked as one of the greatest rappers of all-time. He was ranked #1 by MTV in their list of The Greatest MCs of All-Time in 2006. Two of his albums, Reasonable Doubt (1996) and The Blueprint (2001) are considered landmarks in the genre with both of them being ranked in Rolling S… more »

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Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one representing BK to the fullest
Bastards ducking when Hov be buckin', chicken heads be cluckin', uh

Back when ratchet was a ratchet and the vixen was a vixen and Jam Master Jay was alive, I was mixing
Cooking coke in the kitchen back when Rodman was a Piston
Mike was losing to Isiah but he soon would get his sixth one
Gave birth to my verbal imagination, assume a virtue if you have not
Or better yet here's a verse from Hamlet
"Lord, we know who we are
Yet we know not what we may be"
So maybe I'm the one or maybe I'm crazy
I'm from Marcy houses where the boys die by the thousand
Back when Pam was on Martin yeah that's where it all started
When Denzel was blottin' carpet, I'll pack a nine millimeter when Slick Rick made Mona Lisa
When Lisa Bonet was Beyoncé of her day, I had divas ya'll
Think I just popped up in this bitch like a fetus? Nah
Pregnant pause, give you some second thoughts
There's room on the bandwagon, don't abort
Marcy me

Marcy me
Streets is my artery, the vein of my existence
I'm the Gotham City heartbeat
I started in lobbies now, parley with Saudis
Sufi to the goofies I could probably speak Farsi
That's poetry read a coca leaf from my past
Came through the bushes smelling like roses I need a trophy just for that
Old Brooklyn not this new shit, shit feel like a spoof
Fat laces in your shoe I'm talking busting off the roof
Hold a uzi vertical, let the thing smoke
Y'all flirting with death, I be winking through the scope
Shout out to all the murderers turned murals, plural, f*ck the Federal Bureau
Shout out to Nostrand Ave, Flushing Ave, Myrtle
All the County of Kings, may your ground stay fertile
Shout out to Big Poppa, Daddy Kane, heroes
Thus concluding my concerto, Marcy me

Must be in the air, oh can't walk away I know, I know
Just the way I was raised I know, I know, I know
Oh Marcy, Marcy me just the way I am, always gonna be
I ain't gonna change, no
Marcy, Marcy me, just the way I am
I know, I know, I ain't gonna change, no
(Como as minhas mueos tocando aqui
Eu nuo canto do mundo, o meu tempo)

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