Instrumente
Ensembles
Genres
Komponiste
Presteerders

Lirieke: Jay-Z. The Dynasty: Roc La Familia 2000. You, Me, Him And Her.

Told y'all, Dynasty, Roc-A-Fella Records, you heard me?
Unstoppable, niggaz! Uhh
Memph Bleek, Amil-lion, Sigel Sigel ya heard?
It's a Dynasty! Who do you believe?

Jigga Man, mo' better, mo' cheddar
Foes knock the man off your Polo sweater
Roll with the R O C-A-Fella
Remember me? The teachers used to fail us
Now it's mo' scrilla, hoe killers, fo'-wheelers, we gorillas

Oh, please feel us, we heat holders
Fightin'? Listen boy, Roy Jones couldn't still us
The plot thickens, the block clickin'
We got the game tied up, stop trippin'

Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y'all
Memph Bleek what? Amil-lion, uhh

Cat be him, El Cap-i-tan
The fire I spit burn down Happyland
Social Club, we unapproachable thugs, non-social, gone postal
Great aim, harm the arm close to your toast
Like a Don's supposed to, Shawn

I thought I told you, these ain't just vocals
Don't make me take it to the old school
I put holes through your hoes too
Through your clothes to the foes to the nigga close to you, fuck it

Fuck it, Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y'all
Amil-lion what? Memph Bleek

Y'all dudes don't, get it, come wid' it
Fifth loaded with slugs that'll rest in your fitted
It's M dot E-M, the Roc be them
Got the mamis sayin' look, who can stop be them?
You wan' press your dumb luck, get blam blam-ed up

I crush your larynx, you talk 'bout us nigga, no obituary, I get it critical
You know Memph'll hit the pall bearer liftin' you
When I cock the plastic, make 'em drop the casket
When it's hot, I'm blastin', it's the Roc, you bastards

Jigga Man what? Amil-lion yeah
Memph Bleek huh? Sigel Sigel c'mon

Spit acid, c'mon
Witcha bullshit smash hit, get your bullshit smashed in
Niggaz wanna front and get jumped
Bet the ruger give your right side a nice-sized lump
Nigga, we are, the supreme squad

You can dream hard but reality is
We push the dream cars, fuck the queen broads
Puff the green raw, we as real as it get, we the R-O-C dot A dot Fellas
Bitches don't talk to us, the hoes they e-mail us

Nigga, Jigga Man what? Memph Bleek huh?
Amil-lion yeah, Sigel Sigel rap

R dot O dot C dot stop
From tower to mind pop, I move out stop
Shower your mind block, move out with glocks
Raw to the cook, look, move out them blocks

Take it to the bucks who be grindin' it up
Usually take it to the dubs so they diamond it up
Competition, linin' 'em up
Forty-five A C P, let me squeeze lime 'em up
You want, drama what? Well silence it up

Since a young buck, violent as fuck
Wettin' me dog, the high will do it, I used to wild off embalmin' fluid
I sent niggaz to the trauma unit, forty-five or the nine'll do it
I fuck around and have your moms go through it, I'm a beast

Shit, niggaz always wanna ye shit, then they wanna cease shit
When they motherfuckin' peeps hit
But I don't cease nothin', I decease som'un
I fuck around and have you sleepin' underneath som'un

Jigga Man what? Sigel Sigel y'all
Memph Bleek uh, Amil-lion right

Yo, A to the M-I, feminist
Holdin' the semi, leave niggaz faced with a dilemmi
Am I, gon' run or stay, can I
Get away no you can't can't I surrendi?
And I, lazy bop, Mercedes hot
In my way through the tunnel like Lady Di

Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y'all
Memph Bleek what? Amil-lion uhh