[Intro: Jay-Z]

Yeah!

Nigga, I could make four more albums off memory!

Y'all ain’t never gonna be better than me

I’ma do this 'til I’m eighty

[Verse 1: Jay-Z]

Everybody wanna rhyme like Hov'

'Cause I rhyme like I be rhyming in the Rov'

Climbing in them hoes

Mind like a diamond, I’ll blind you at the shows

I don’t shine, I glow; I remind you of that dough, don’t I?

Did I? Hustle the game

Just the thought alone give me a boner

Coach cater to a coma

Can’t out-hustle a hustler, you can’t outplay a player

This rap shit is a layup

In my former biz, motherfuckers will spray ya

In the music biz, motherfuckers just say stuff

Spit on you and spray ya, niggas just play tough when the cameras on

When the cameras gone, niggas want to set up meetings

'Cause they know most likely, when I see 'em, I’ma set up a beating

Windows, no tints (Tints); cars, no rims (Nope)

That’s because we handle ours like grown men

I ain’t touch a wheel since I drove the Bent'

That’s 'cause it was a coupe—nah, I ain’t souped

I was telling the truth, and you Tom Cruise—you can’t handle it

Handle it, nigga, is what I do

I tried to be modest on Blueprint 2 (Tch)

But y'all don’t respect modest; y'all respect my dollars

You got to believe I think like a artist

But my bills through the roof—can’t do numbers like The Roots

No disrespect, I be trying to disconnect

But niggas keep pulling me back in, I’m trapped in

My pops got a liver disorder

My whole living's disordered, and I just got his living room ordered

And you wonder why the chip on my shoulder's more like a brick or a boulder

You’ll understand maybe when you get older (Maybe)

Got a hundred niggas on your dick saying, "You ought to record like this," or what have you

Niggas is back-stabbing you

Bitches mad at you ‘cause they can’t have you

Press want to know about the daughter of Matthew (What up, Bey?)

Now it’s back to the hood again, all-black hood again

Back to old ladies saying what I could’ve been

Back to the gats—you forgot I’m real good with them

They gon' put a nigga in jail—oh, well

[Hook: 50 Cent & Jay-Z]

If I can’t (Yeah) do it (Ugh)

Homie, it can’t be done

[Verse 2: Jay-Z]

I’m the one, I’m not the two, not the three, not the four, the five

I take the pain from my life, pour it all on the side

Take my strain and my stride, take my ego and pride

Used them to kick down the door, brought my people inside

And I hope you ain’t think I wrote this to entertain you, 'cause that ain’t what I came to do

I will bang you, I will act like orangutans do

I give you hot wings, turn niggas to angels

Understand my angle, I’m safety-first

Don’t make me act like the safety don't work

Tough niggas get it the worst, I’m begging you, come for us

I’m giving motherfuckers dirt comforters

[Outro: Jay-Z]

Ahahaha

Young!

Night-night, nigga, take a dirt nap

S. Carter Collection!

Black Album on its way

I know you hear the footsteps

Tap, tap, tap

Yes!