Jay-zBrooklyn's Finest

Okay, I'm reloaded! You motherfuckers, think you big time? Fucking with Jay-Z, you gon' die, big time! Here come the "Pain"! Jigga (Jigga), Bigga (Bigga) Nigga, how you figure (how you figure) Yeah, yeah, yeah, hey yo Peep the style and the way the cops sweat us (uh-huh) The number one question is can the Feds get us (uh-huh) I got vendettas in dice games against ass betters (uh-huh) And niggas who pump wheels and drive Jettas Take that witcha Hit ya, back split ya Fuck fist fights and lame scuffles Pillow case to your face, make the shell muffle Shoot your daughter in the calf muscle Fuck a tussle, nickel-plated Sprinkle coke on the floor, make it drug related Most hate it Can't fade it While y'all pump Willie, I run up in stunts silly Scared, so you sent your little mans to come kill me But on the contrilli, I packs the mack-milli Squeezed off on him, left them paramedics breathing soft on him What's ya name? Who shot ya? Mob ties like Sinatra Peruvians tried to do me in, I ain't paid them yet Trying to push 700's, they ain't made them yet Rolex and bracelets is frostbit; rings too Niggas 'round the way call me Igloo Stix (Who?) Motherfucker! Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers (Where you from?) Brooklyn, going out for all Marcy, that's right, you don't stop Bed-Stuy, you won't stop, nigga! What, what, what? Jay-Z, Big' Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers Brooklyn represent y'all, hit you fold You crazy, think your little bit of rhymes can play me? I'm from Marcy, I'm varsity, chump, you're JV (Jigga) Jay-Z And Bigga baby! My Bed-Stuy flow's malicious, delicious Fuck three wishes, made my road to riches From 62's, gem stars, my moms dishes Gram chopping, police van docking D's at my doors knocking What? Keep rocking No more, Mister, Nice Guy, I twist your shit The fuck back with them pistols, blazing Hot like Cajun Hotter than even holding work at the Days Inn With New York plates outside Get up outta there, fuck your ride Keep your hands high, shit gets steeper Here comes the Grim Reaper, Frank Wright Leave the keys to your In-tegra (That's right) Chill homie, the bitch in the Shoney's told me You're holding more drugs than a pharmacy, you ain't harmin me So pardon me, pass the safe, before I blaze the place And here's six shots just in case (Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn) Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers (Where you from?) Brooklyn goin out to all (Crown Heights) You don't stop (Brownsville) You won't stop, nigga! (Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn) Hah hah! Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers (Where we from?) Brooklyn going out to all (Bushwick) You don't stop (Fort Greene) You won't stop, niggas! Yeah, yeah, yeah For nine six, the only MC with a flu Yeah I rhyme sick, I be what you're trying to do Made a fortune off Peru, extradite, china white heron Nigga please, like short sleeves I bear arms Stay out my way from here on (clear?) Gone! Me and Gutter had two spots The two for five dollar hits, the blue tops Gotta go, Coolio mean it's getting "Too Hot" If Faith had twins, she'd probably have 2Pac's Get it? Tu-pac's Time to separate the pros from the cons The platinum from the bronze That butter soft shit from that leather on the Fonz A S1 diamond from a eye class don A Cham' Dom' sipper from a Rosay nigga, huh?! Brook-Nam, sipping on Cristal forever, play the crib when it's mink weather The M.A.F.I.A. keep canons in they Marc Buchanans Usually cuatro cinco, the shell sink slow, tossing ya Mad slugs through your Nautica, I'm warning ya (Hah, what the fuck?) Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers (Where you from?) Brooklyn going out to all (Flatbush) You don't stop (Red hook) You won't stop, nigga! (Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn) Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers (Where you from?) Brooklyn going out to all (East New York) You don't stop (Clinton Hill) You won't stop, nigga! "Is Brooklyn in the house?" Roc-A-Fella, y'all, Junior M.A.F.I.A. Superbad click, Brooklyn's Finest, you re-wind this Represeting BK to the fullest
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