Jay-Z - U Don't Know Lyrics
[Lil Fame]Time to duck, fireDuck, fire, duck, fireDuck, fire, duck, FIYAAAAAAAHHH!(U Don't know what you're doing, doing, doing, doing)It's the MOP (Yes)1, 1, 2, 3, 3And mother*****er we comin, 100 miles and gunninI'm still runnin with cash that's robbedFrom the era of exhale 80's and hats back stomp(SAME GAME!) operation for this industry lockdownWe still tote hammers that go BLOCKOWWWWRun up if you wanna, believe me dogThese hammers with they owners, ***** ya G upHave ya with blue 'jamas in a coma, andYa family now moan, look, 70 pounds goneA little *****, scribbled up with a hospital down on(WE HOLDIN IT DOWN HOLMES!)keep pushin weak frail bastardsTo get over, we prowl with slimmer re-shelled tacticsJiminy frail bastards, your tracks need tune-upsNo limit, what the *****, recordin for nig' junior(The game aint changed)it just got harderPlus we sponsored by laz' Dame Dash and Mr. S. CarterBrownsville(yep), we stomp in this ***** all dayRock with my ***** out, face the crowd and piss off stage[Billy Danze]Uh, Uh, Uh, I'm from the G side of thangsWhere we ride and bang, where the heat died of flameThat's how we got the name(WARRIORS!)And better than ya bank, and someone should be tellin 'emThe veterans have came, and we're better in the game(YOU BETTER MAKE IT RAIN!) "27 grams" my manIt's better than cocaine, now everything will changeIn this family we'll rule the worldAnd you haters can eat a dick up till you hiccup and ermA decade on the grind, nigga I paid mineSo it's my time to shine and for you can ride the pineI wont sit back and rap like these dumb ass kidsI been around, I put it down, I aint these young ass kids(MOP!) The OG's repped and survived around this mother*****a(FIRST FAMILY!) We kept it live around this motheruckaWhen it's crunch time, we do it our wizzayFor shizzle my nigga, learn to grip pistols and BK[Jay-Z]WHOOOOOOO!!!!!!Turn my music high, high, high, high-erMo' fire, mo' problems, more Roc-a-wear attireMo' money, mo' murder now that M.O.P.'s hiredMo' murder for the ROC empire, ya'll wont surfaceYa'll nervous knowin them guns on full service, ready to fireOne body, two body, three body, fourYoung sittin on paper, I'm above the lawYoung shittin on haters, I aint *****in with ya'llFor my Brownsville neighbors, How About Some Hardcore?And it just get worser, every time I write my signature in cursiveJust add another million to these versesOne million, two million, three million, fourAnd the money's really worthless, I'm pissing you off on purposeMy nephew's situated, and my mama's straightSo I'm ready for whatever drama should come our wayAnd you *****ers rappin to me, so your drama is fakeYa'll niggas is noodles, I got more fetti to bakeLet's get it!
