Lyric | Kanye Or Jay-Z |
What's Gucci my ****? What's Louie my killa? What's drugs my deala? What's that jacket, Margiela? | |
Charge it to the game, whatever’s left on it I spent about a minute, maybe less on it Fly pelican fly, turn the jets on it But first I shall digress on it | |
Hello, hello, hello, White America, assassinate my character Money matrimony, yeah, they tryna break the marriage up | |
Rappers hear Watch the Throne, they gon' be pissed off Earth is boring to 'em, s*** is making my d*** soft | |
Ball so hard, let's get faded, Le Meurice for like 6 days Gold bottles, scold models, spillin' Ace on my sick J's | |
It was all good just a week ago, **** feel theyselves And that Watch the Throne drop, **** kill themselves | |
Psycho, I'm liable to go Michael Take your pick, Jackson, Tyson, Jordan, Game 6 | |
Now all my **** designing and we all swaggin’ Ignore the critics just to say we did it This ain’t no fashion show mothafucka, we live it | |
Welcome to Havana Smoking cubanos with Castro in cabanas Viva Mexico, Cubano Dominicano, all the plugs that I know | |
I pledge allegiance to my Grandma For that banana pudding, our piece of Americana Our apple pie was supplied through Arm and Hammer Straight out the kitchen, shh, don’t wake Nana | |
| Lyric | Kanye Or Jay-Z |
**** talking, they bitchmade, Ixnay off my dicksnay That’s Pig Latin, itch-bay, who gon stop me huh? | |
Bueller had a Mueller, but I switched it for a Miele ‘Cause I’m richer, and prior to this s*** was movin’ freebase | |
Can't you see the private jets flyin' over you? Maybach bumper sticker read 'What would Hova do?' Jay is chillin', 'Ye is chillin' What more can I say? We killin' 'em | |
And I’m from the murder capital where they murder for capital Heard about at least three killings this afternoon | |
I adopted these ****, Phillip Drummond 'em Now I'm bout to make them tuck they whole summer in They say I'm crazy, well, I'm 'bout to go dumb again | |
Tears on the mausoleum floor Blood stains the Colosseum doors Lies on the lips of a priest Thanksgiving disguised as a feast | |
I wish I could give you this feelin’, I’m planking on a million I’m riding through yo’ hood, you can bank I ain’t got no ceiling | |
From parolees to hold G’s, sold keys, low keys/ We like the promised land of the OG’s/ In the past if you picture events like a black tie/ What the last thing you expect to see | |
Street-smart and I’m book smart coulda been a chemist cause I cook smart Only thing that can stop me is me and I’mma stop when the hook start, hold up | |
Welcome to Havana Smoking cubanos with Castro in cabanas Viva Mexico, Cubano Dominicano, all the plugs that I know | |
**** talking, they bitchmade, Ixnay off my dicksnay That’s Pig Latin, itch-bay, who gon stop me huh? | |
I wish I could give you this feelin’, I’m planking on a million I’m riding through yo’ hood, you can bank I ain’t got no ceiling | |
Tears on the mausoleum floor Blood stains the Colosseum doors Lies on the lips of a priest Thanksgiving disguised as a feast | |
Now all my **** designing and we all swaggin’ Ignore the critics just to say we did it This ain’t no fashion show mothafucka, we live it | |
Rappers hear Watch the Throne, they gon' be pissed off Earth is boring to 'em, s*** is making my d*** soft | |
And I’m from the murder capital where they murder for capital Heard about at least three killings this afternoon | |
It was all good just a week ago, **** feel theyselves And that Watch the Throne drop, **** kill themselves | |
What's Gucci my ****? What's Louie my killa? What's drugs my deala? What's that jacket, Margiela? | |
Hello, hello, hello, White America, assassinate my character Money matrimony, yeah, they tryna break the marriage up | |
Psycho, I'm liable to go Michael Take your pick, Jackson, Tyson, Jordan, Game 6 | |
Ball so hard, let's get faded, Le Meurice for like 6 days Gold bottles, scold models, spillin' Ace on my sick J's | |
Bueller had a Mueller, but I switched it for a Miele ‘Cause I’m richer, and prior to this s*** was movin’ freebase | |
From parolees to hold G’s, sold keys, low keys/ We like the promised land of the OG’s/ In the past if you picture events like a black tie/ What the last thing you expect to see | |
I pledge allegiance to my Grandma For that banana pudding, our piece of Americana Our apple pie was supplied through Arm and Hammer Straight out the kitchen, shh, don’t wake Nana | |
Street-smart and I’m book smart coulda been a chemist cause I cook smart Only thing that can stop me is me and I’mma stop when the hook start, hold up | |
Can't you see the private jets flyin' over you? Maybach bumper sticker read 'What would Hova do?' Jay is chillin', 'Ye is chillin' What more can I say? We killin' 'em | |
I adopted these ****, Phillip Drummond 'em Now I'm bout to make them tuck they whole summer in They say I'm crazy, well, I'm 'bout to go dumb again | |
Charge it to the game, whatever’s left on it I spent about a minute, maybe less on it Fly pelican fly, turn the jets on it But first I shall digress on it | |
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