Talk to me man
This ya boy Young Hova, yo turn the muh'fuckin noise up
We'll get right into the proceedings this evening
Headphones are distortin', bring it down a lil' bit

Okay now we workin' wit it
The boy Face on the bassline, face-mob!
Welcome to New York City, it's ya boy Young Hov' chea
Kanye West on the track Chi-Town, what's goin' on now?
(Whoo!)

Can I talk to y'all for a minute? Lemme talk to y'all for a minute
Just gimme a minute of ya time baby I don't want much
(Whoo!)
Lemme talk to these muh'fuckas, uhh

Guess who's bizack?
You still smellin' crack in my clothes
Don't make me have to relapse on these hoes
Take it back out to taxin' them roads
When I was huggin' it, ni***z couldn't do nuttin' wit it

Straight from the oven wit it came from the dirt
I emerged from it all without a stain on my shirt
You can blame my old earth, for the s**t she instilled in me
Still with me, pain plus work

S**t she made me milk this game for all it's worth
That's right, these ni***z can't f**k with me
I'm callin' guts every time, drag my nuts every time
Homey, we make a great combination don't we?

Me and the Face Mob, every time we face-off
Face it y'all, y'all ni***z playin basic ball
I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall
Homey, I'm in the drop with the ac on
That's why the, streets embrace me dawg, I'm so cool!

Guess who's bizack?
Back on the block with the old Face Mob
Mack Mittens and Hov' don't make me relapse
Back to the block with the fo', 'cuz this street s**t is all I know

From the womb to the tomb a hot pot of joy and a spoon
Tryna make me forty thousand and move
Motels, star-studded, rock stars and goons
Plain clothes wanna run in my room
(Whoo!)

But n***a guess who's bizack? It's ya boy Face Mob
Started with an eightball, gotta get this cake dawg
Give ni***z a break, nah, you know how the game go
F**k you think I slang fo', to go against the grain
(No)

I'm out here to grind mo', rapped up in the paper chase
I wanna f**k a fine hoe and candy paint the 88
Don't got no wholesale, 'cuz that ain't how I wanna run it
Here take these five stones and bring a n***a back a hundred

Gotta see my feet dude, you do s**t a fiend do
The fire get too hot in the kitchen, I hit the streets fool
Money is an issue - and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle
Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle

And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part of the time
We go to war and you ain't makin' a dime ha ha!
'Cuz I got, s**t to lose a n***a out here payin his dues
My baby walkin' gotta get him some shoes

It's a new game doin', lemme give ya the rules
Get outta line and I'ma give ya the blues
It's a new game doin', lemme give ya the rules
Get outta line and I'ma give ya the blues, whoa!

Guess who's bizack?
The boy B. Mizack-A. K. A. Mr. Crack-A-Brick
Turn a whole one from a half a brick, look I mastered this
You can smell it once the plastic rips

A hot plate'll make ya swell up if ya gasket clicked
You can make ya chips swell up, ya don't hafta pitch
Play them corners like a safety, watch the traffic switch
Young'n never pump fake, and you'll get past the blitz

And keep ya whole hood on flip like old box-spring
Pissy mattress s**t, low old box of things
Strictly glassy s**t I hug the block like quarter waters
S**t I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter

Till like deuce in the mornin', with the old heads
Slangin' loose quarters, this Philly cat back gatted
(Had it)
Still fu***n' with them crack addicts
Still bustin' with that black-matic

Guess who's bizack?
Back on the block with the old Face Mob
Mack Mittens and Hov' don't make me relapse
Back to the block with the fo' 'cuz this street s**t is all I know
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Guess Who's Back Lyrics

Jay-Z – Guess Who's Back Lyrics

Songwriters: Sutton, Michael Burnett / Sutton, Brenda Jean / West, Kanye Omari / Depierro, Tom / Carter, Shawn C / Grant, Dwight / Jordan, Brad
Guess Who's Back lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group

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