Текст песни Jay-Z - Politics As Usual
Жанр: | Hip-Hop |
Исполнитель: | Jay-Z |
Альбом: | Reasonable Doubt |
Длительность: | 03:42 |
Рейтинг: | 5524 |
MP3: | Скачать |
Загрузил: | yakk |
Текст:
You know how we do, Roc-a-Fella... forever... You can catch me skatin through your town puttin it down y'all relatin No waitin I'll make your block infrared hot I'm like Satan Y'all feel a nigga's struggle, y'all think a nigga love to hustle behind the wheel, tryin to escape my trouble kids stop they greetin me, I'm talkin sweet to keys Cursin the very God, that bought this wreath to be My life is, based on sacrifices, jewels like ices and fools that think I slip, you fuck around you get your guys hit, they built me to be filthy on some I-do-or-die shit, for real The price of leather's got me, deeper than ever and just think, with this here, I'm tryin to feel made nig-ga Politics as us-ual... I took my Frito to Tito in the district, blessed me with some VS somethins I can live with, stop frontin And for the dough I raise, gotta get shit appraised No disrespect to you, make sure you word is true I'm takin wages down in Vegas just in case Tyson have a major night off, that's clean money, the tax write-off You ain't seen money in your life, when it comes to this cheese y'all like Three Blind Mice A smokin bro, who pump Willie Ike spokes The furthest you Chiles been is the Pocanos My portfolio reads: leads to Don Corleone, nigga please Ten year feleon, heavy on the wrist, our face used with the diamond blooded Jesus and blind your face youse for life... sharight, Jigga, I keep it tight nig-ga Politics as us-ual... You feel my triumph never, feel my pain I'm lyin Low in the leather Zion, the best that's ever came The game changes like, my mind just ain't right We 'gwan get this dough, I guess it ain't your night Suckin me in like a vacumn, I remember tellin my family I'll be back soon, that was December Eighty-five and, Jay-Z rise ten years later got me wise still can't break my underworld ties I wear black a lot, in the Ac', act a lot Got matchin VCR's, a huge Magnavox to nitch, green like spinach pop wines that's vintage It's a lot of big money in my sentence Hittin towards a mil', lip a, written I kill like that chick faked me one-two cat, yeah, I do dat Ain't no stoppin the champagne from poppin the drawers from droppin, the law from watchin, I hate em Politics as us-ual
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