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Correct You're Only A Customer Lyrics
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Dangerous Ground Movie
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Correct You're Only A Customer
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[Intro:] Ha ha, ha ha, Roc-a-Fella y'all Futuristic shit beeotch Uh, what the fuck? How we do. How we do. Uh ha [Verse 1:] Triple platnum nigga with the solid gold fade All that nickle and dime shit, don't hold no weight Fortune 5, top 5 in the Forbes (you'll see) as you Thumb through the Source I read the Ride report Class C, cold me down with the plastic That's all I Ask Of You, like Raphael Saadiq At the hotel, Nico, robbin' the val suite My people's eyes through the peep hole I'm lovin' you down freak as I Shoot through the city like a rumor Not soon enough, to stop 'em from spreadin' the news Paper headin' read "Jay-Z breaths, 80 degrees" The only thing to cool them off is a Malibu day breeze Can't sop for the feds, say cheese You know they wanna take a nigga picture Pray for the day to get ya, but I'm a parlay and stay richer for now Jigga hasn't done dirt in a while You know my stomach getin' weak from livin' on the streets for real Tryin' to oversee it from suites, orderin' eats At the top where the criminal minds meet That's where the cream is (right), that's where your dream is (well ain't It?) [Hook:] You're only a customer (uh) Walkin' in the presence of hustlers You spend money all night long "All night long" - Mary J. Blige [Verse 2:] A-yo my youth had a nigga too aggressive I use to speed excessive, both eyes closed No thought infested Hittin' pot holes, cop-o's will snatch your weight But your game most precious Had to rethink things, is pinky ring worth Life on the run and time served in Sing Sing I don't know to tell the truth If I'm pressed for doe, I got to consoul Irv Gotti y'all [Irv Gotti:] Heads got to roll [Jay-Z:] I was raised to live, Lord I pray you forgive If not, I just handle it like Jason Kidd What you're facin' is official (it's official) Most cases when I"m blazin' won't miss you (won't miss you) Case and point mad bullshitted issue I see it to the end, my writting is so personal My heart bleedin' out my pen, make no mistake aobut me It's only one nigga livin', I got a half a cake about me I got love, to make a nigga die bleedin' is nothin' You make a motherfucker die breathin' then you sayin' somthing, beeotch [Hook (X3)] More flavor than y'all can image havin' Graphic like Sega, Saturn, traffic like the Bodega It just so happens, you caught me at the the tail end of my dive My brain ain't right from inhaling the work of my life Fuck it, 3's in ya, had to hold D. C. High pissy off Cristle 3 G's high seasoned Bacardy, uv's Blesses my body, we be fresh at the party Play yourself go head if you don't no the ledge It's like spittin' to God Get it in your face fuckin' with niggas over your head Take your time with me, shiftee Use to make Coke stretch like the samplin' a 950 Shit with that, while I'm o a Kawasoki bike At the light, doin' a pike, with a bitch on the back And take flight, my life like it was directed by Hype In 35 slow-mo, with the Rockafella logo Accapoco to Arruba, bay breezes and caviar baluga Very little loot, a loser In the grashish blueish, Les Coup it's the root of evil in these people [Hook (X3)]
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