Tekster:
Jay Five

Rap mags try and use my black ass So advertisers can give 'em more cash for ads, fuckers I don't know what you take me as Or understand the intelligence that Jay

leavin' out the stores with heavy bags 'Cause we be poppin' tags, pimpin' we be poppin' tags We arose, let's go So fresh so clean like 'Kast Jay-Z be

dubs Don't forget about them blades shit choppin' it up It's the motherfuckin' Roc bitch, who hotter than us? Jay-Hov, 'bout to change my name to Jay

explodes Beneath us sleep with the reaper, they sleep eyes closed That's how real Brad Jordan keep it, to him I owe Five fo-fo's ready, five masks, five

[Jay-Z] Yeah!! Check it check it out Uhhh haha gotta keep it fat Chorus: Jay Z (repeat 2X) I can't get with that I gotta keep it thick never miss so

white, green Your last breath, you about five heartbeats away from death 'Cause you the leon type, so muahh Make you rest in peace No more records bein sold, less is me Five

a TV, A n!gga Fu** with me Squigly lines an IV's. Uncle says Flocka Murder this MothaFu**a! Yo roc Dig a hole for these MothaFu**a's!!! Let me brush my shoulders off Jay

state of disgust Hating but still trying to be like us Twist the lime on the corona, grab my crime diploma Then head to the block, to pull up five in

chicken head Bone legged, buckteeth butterfly One for the money, two for the show Three I want a real big booty to go Check it, for the homies, five