Lyrics:
Had 12 stuck to my chest in the field with the Colt
Andrew Luck with it
We had the rock, hit the block like what's up with it
Jay was in the Z, my
niggas
Uh, it's 0-11
I figured out what's the matter with
This shit It ain't me, it's these niggas
It's the Roc, I’m on my Jay Z shit
Nah nah, fuck
thanks to
The accident, thanks to god
Thanks to Roc-A-Fella
Jay-Z, Dame Dash, G, my mother
Rhymefest everyone that's helped me
And I plan to celebrate
I
umm right
Now, is my time and my moment, thanks
To the fans, thanks to the accident
Thanks to God, thanks to Roc-A-Fella, Jay Z
Dame Dash, G, my mother,
ain't got it, I got it
I get it
I only give it to those who really live it
Like Jay-Z, the Game
And my dogs that really did it
Like Kweli, like Common
pain
But, motherfucker, that ain't your Navy 6
All you do is drive JAY-Z shit
Nigga you ain't hardcore
Nigga you ain't ever won no warzone
You still
[Jay-Z]
What, tssh, why'all, what
Jigga, uhh uhh uhh, uh-huh
Pa-pa, uhh, pa-pa, uhh
The G, Roc-A-Fella why'all
Who be, in a Japanese
less
While you sleep sleep sleep
I'm inna Benz going beep beep beep
Got your girl sayin' yo who he
So let's ride to Rockland's party
[Jay-Z
a bad bitch run, uh
I just bought a new AP (AP)
'Bout to get the bad bitch one (Yeah)
Nigga like the new Jay-Z (Woo)
Pockets on fat, Big Pun (Big bag)
in the vehicle bent
These days I mellowed out
See, success make a fella content
Un huh
You know, this rap stuff, pop a
Jay-Z Hugo, course
Hit the streets and tear this bitch up like I'm Willie B
No Tennessee but the chain on my neck is a T
No Memphis Bleek, bitch I own the Roc not Jay
enemy
Like kennedy, he gettin sprayed
So I keep my gauge loaded, pop, pop
Uh oh, there they go, let anotha flee
4 real crooks runnin tight wit me
Jus
Haha, Jay-Z roc-A-Fella Records
Circle of success, ha, DJ Self hey, check it
The nerve with you herbs
Y'all know who swerve from the curb
In
[Jay-Z]
R-O-C
Memph Bleek do it again
Jigga man, yeah
(Yeah, yeah)
Missy, sho' nuff
[Memphis Bleek]
Yo check it now, yo
Yo Hov' chose I -- I ain't
compare me to Jay-Z
I pop my collar, hollar
All about the drama blowing scama
Pockets stay filled with that good marijuana
But you lames hating
Cause
Out of range, never running out of game
Lotta chains, came with a lot of pain
Not a day goes by I ain't got a jay
Spending change, where that
Jay-Z
They tried to give my autistic son medicine for ADHD
Same kid who could look at a piano and memorize all 88 keys
I learned everything I need
you mention Pac, Biggie or Jay Z
Don't forget Weezy, baby
Hey, Mr. Carter, Mr. Carter (Amen)
Tell me, where have you been? Where have you been?
still after me, brrt, brrt, brrt
See, I was payin' homage to Hov, I could never diss JAY-Z
Y'all know me better than that, I got real street beefs
said she love B.I.G. and she likes Tupac
And when I said Jay-Z she say, "It's the Roc"
I'ma leave it like this, like this like that
Where Brooklyn at?
said she love B.I.G. and she likes Tupac
And when I said Jay-Z she say, "It's the Roc"
I'ma leave it like this, like this like that
Where Brooklyn at?
the gunner pop, tell me who you wanna rock
It's crew love Rocafella 'til I die
Nigga keep it moving, don't get caught up in this drive-by
The breaks over,
know there's snakes in the grass
Can get hit with that RICO
I'm a hustler like Jay Z
And I'ma ball like Alpo
Money before these hoes
Kickin shit like
Right there by the door, Yeah
This gone pop it off
This gone top it off
I'm in the paint like Andy Warhol
This for all my dawgs
I don't do
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