[Jay-Z]
Back atīcha
How we do
Primo, Jigga-Man
History in the making
Letīs go
Uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH
Uh-huh-uh-uhh, uhh
I spit the murder-murder-murderous
Mur-mur-ma-murderous SHIT
Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-UHH
I keep the gangsta-gangsta-gangsta
Gah-gah-ga-gangsta beat, feel me? Uhh
I spit that Brooklyn-Brooklyn-Brook
Uh-uhh, uh-huh-uh-uhh, uh-uhh
Uh-huh-UHH
Yo.. career crook, nobody rap Brooklyn like me
Jigga-Man, Volume 3, Iīm back lookin like me
Stop the presses, baby girls, drop your dresses
B-K lick a shot for Big Popī in heaven
Ever since I came through, niggaz got the impression
everything I drop, out of the question, stop the guessin
itīs hot, flows provin I pack cause my doughīs movin
My whole crew up in this muhīfucker
We spray corners, stand there like you got a cape on ya, fine
Youīll be wearing a black suit a long time
I put your crew in hard bottoms
The priest is like, "Godīs got him
He never did nuttin to nobody but them boys shot him"
Brandish iron, outlandish buyin
Bentley Coupes, not braggin just simply the truth
We all from the ghetto, only difference, we go back
Back up in D&D on this Primo track, listen
[Chorus: Jay-Z {scratching by DJ Premier}]
Iīm so gangsta prissy chicks donīt wanna fuck with me
"Iceberg, Slim baby ride rims"
Iīm so gutter, ghetto girls fall in love with me
"You know him well.." "..by the name of Jigga"
Iīm so gangsta prissy chicks donīt wanna fuck with me
"You can love me or hate me.." "..Jay-Z"
Iīm so gutter, ghetto girls fall in love with me
"Roc-a-Fella lock the whole block down"
[Jay-Z]
Wednesdayīs Iīm up in Shine, Cheetahīs Monday night
Iīm fuckin with the model chicks Friday night at Life
So Iīm cruisin in the car with this boozy broad
She said, "Jigga-Man you rich, take the doo-rag off"
Hit a U-turn; ma Iīm droppin you back off
Front of the club, "Jigga why you do that for?"
Thug nigga til the end, tell a friend bitch
Wonīt change for no paper plus I been rich
Eighty-eight been hustlin, linen been crushin em
Women been fuckin them HUH?
You see I live for the love of the street
Rap to the ruggedest beats
Hall closet cluttered with heat
I spit that murder-murder-murder
that Brook-Brook-a-Brooklyn shit
Furthermore ma..
We tote guns to the Grammyīs, pop bottles on the White House lawn
Guess Iīm just the same old Shawn
[Chorus]
[Jay-Z]
Iīm from the M-to-the-A-baby-R-C-Y
So itīs hard for me to let the larceny die
Niggaz see me in the streets with no bodyguards
just two big guns thatīll body your squad
Could niggaz be scheamin on me? Probably are
Think Jiggaīs a joke nigga? Hardy har
I spit Brook-Brook-Brooklyn every time I bust
Radioīs gotta play me though I cuss too much
Magazine said Iīm shallow, I never learned to swim
Still they put me on they cover cause I earn for them
Soon as I sell too much, watch them turn on him
cause that seem to be the shit thatīll earn for them
I spit that murder-murder-murderous everytime a verbalist
iller than Verbal Kint is or O-Dog in "Menace"
Iīm ill, start to finish, I rip apart contenders
Iīm hot.. hehehehe..
[Chorus]
[Jay-Z]
Iīm so gangsta prissy chicks donīt wanna fuck with me, uhh
Iīm so gutter, ghetto girls ..
Heheh, (uhh, uhh, uh-huh-uh-uhh), yeah
Uhh, yeah, funk, yeah, with me, yeah, beyotch, yeah
Jigga, yeah, Primo, yeah, gangsta, yeah, niggaz, yeah
Brooklyn, yeah |
