| Ha ha, ha ha, Roc-A-Fella y’all
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| Futuristic shit, bee-atch
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| Uh, what the fuck? |
| How we do, how we do
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| Uh huh, uh huh
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| It’s the eventual triple platinum nigga with the solid gold fade
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| All that nickle and dime shit, don’t hold no weight
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| Fortune 5, top 5 in the Forbes (you'll see)
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| As you thumb through The Source, I read the Robb Report
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| Class C, cold me down with the plastic
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| That’s all I ask of you, like Raphael Saadiq
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| At the Hotel Nikko, Robert Duvall suite
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| My people’s eyes through the peep hole
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| I’m loving you down freak, as I
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| Shoot through the city like a rumor
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| Not soon enough, to stop 'em from spreading
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| The newspaper heading read «Jay-Z breathes, 80 degrees
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| Only thing to cool him off is a Malibu Bay Breeze»
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| Can’t stop for the Feds, say cheese
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| You know they wanna take a nigga picture
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| Pray for the day to get ya, but I’ma parlay, stay richer for now
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| Jigga hasn’t done dirt in a while
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| You know my stomach’s getting weak from living on the streets
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| For real, I’m trying to oversee it from suites, ordering eats
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| At the top where the real criminal minds meet
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| That’s where the cream is (right?!)
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| That’s where your dream is (well ain’t it?)
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| You’re only a customer (uh)
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| Walkin' in the presence of hustlers
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| We spend money all night
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| (All night long)
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| Beeotch, Roc-A-Fella y’all, ha ha
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| You’re only a customer (uh)
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| Walkin' in the presence of hustlers
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| We spend money all night
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| (All night long)
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| Yeah, ayo my youth had a nigga too aggressive, ha
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| I used to speed excessive, both eyes closed
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| No thought infested
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| Hitting pot holes, cop-o's'll snatch your away
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| What you deem most precious
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| Had to rethink things, is pinky rings worth
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| Life on the run and time served in Sing Sing?
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| I don’t know to tell the truth, if I’m pressed for dough
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| Gotta consult Irv Gotti y’all, heads got to roll
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| I was raised to live, Lord I pray you forgive
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| If not, I just handle it like Jason Kidd
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| What you’re facing is official (it's official)
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| In most cases when I’m blazing won’t miss you (won't miss you)
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| Case and point made bullshit a issue, I see it to the end
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| My writing so personal, my heart bleeding through the pen
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| Make no mistake about me
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| It’s only one nigga living, I got half a cake about me
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| I got love, I can kill a friend over fam not drugs
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| And very, few people understand that love
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| To make a nigga die bleeding is nothing (nothing)
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| You make a motherfucker die breathing
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| Then you saying something, beeotch
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| You’re only a customer (uh)
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| Walkin' in the presence of hustlers
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| We spend money all night, Roc-A-Fella y’all, ha ha
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| (All night long)
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| You’re only a customer (uh)
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| Walkin' in the presence of hustlers
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| We spend money all night, Roc-A-Fella
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| (All night long)
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| You’re only a customer (uh)
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| Walkin' in the presence of hustlers
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| We spend money all night
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| (All night long)
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| More flavor than y’all can image having
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| Graphic like Sega Saturn, traffic like the Bodega
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| It just so happens, you caught me at the the tail end of my dirt
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| Brain ain’t right from inhaling the work all my life
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| Fuck it, greasy I, had the whole D.C. high
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| Pissy off Cristal, 3G high
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| Seasoned Bacardi, VVS’s
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| Blesses my body, we be fresh at the party
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| Play yourself go 'head if you don’t know the ledge
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| It’s like spitting to God
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| Get it in your face fucking with niggas over your head
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| Take your time with me, shifty
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| Used to make coke stretch like a sample in a 950
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| Shit with that, while I’m on a Kawasaki bike
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| At the light, doing a pike, with a bitch on the back
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| And take flight, my life like it was directed by Hype
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| In 35 slow-mo, with the Roc-A-Fella logo
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| Acapulco to Aruba, Bay Breezes and caviar beluga
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| Very little loot eludes us
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| In the grayish blueish L-e-x coupe
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| It’s the root of evil in these people, what the fuck?
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| You’re only a customer (uh)
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| Walkin' in the presence of hustlers
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| We spend money all night
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| Roc-A-Fella, uh huh, uh huh, beeotch
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| (All night long)
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| You’re only a customer (uh)
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| Walkin' in the presence of hustlers
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| We spend money all night
|
| (All night long)
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| Roc-A-Fella, uh huh, uh huh
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| Futuristic shit |