JAY-Z, Sauce Money - Dead or Alive, Pt. 1 lyrics

This that futuristic shit, bitch
It don't stop, I can't stop
These cats ain't never touched nothing
Ain't never gonna touch nothing
Spend too much of their
Time gossiping and shit you know?
That's something else though
We'll address that at a later date though
Everything must be addressed though
You know? Nothing slides
Word up it's murder
Dead or alive

My skills are, and will remain
Ahead of you guys
And ain't nothing gon' change that
Dead or alive
Any ill feelings I harbor y'all can
Blame it on the vibe
Don't know when to let go
And let young souls die
See a nigga diss me, ain’t nothing new
Understand? But it's how I retaliate which
Defines who I am
Jay-Z, ain't nothing dead or alive playing me
I take beef to the grave
That's how my momma raised me
She told me, "Fight in your afterlife
Never revamp your story" so Heaven or Hell
Niggas better have some answers for me
Hollering shit from '89, Hawaiian Sophie
God damn y'all been on my dick a long time
(It's murder)

Welcome to the Terror Dome
You error prone niggas sick
Roc-A-Fella clique thick as herring bones
What legends are made of
Like whenever accurates hit
My voice locked behind bars to a
Bid for this spectacular shit
Fake kids fold and lie, holding why?
Saw a half a million sales with a golden eye
Patrol the sky to see bucks
GS the fucks Yukon GMC trucks
Slugs ease the pain to your
Brain when thugs squeeze
More we stuck in, bust shots till we chuckin'
You saw the faggot let em
Know more could have it
Automatic rhyme spot 4 shot towards his attic

It's murder dead or alive

If it's jewels you like
You fools gonna fuck around
And lose your life
And I just bruise your wife
Don't get it confused right cause
We in the spotlight
Still I hold the Glock with
The wrist twist like these
Gangsta shit no thanks to shit
Niggas selling a million records
More banks to split
Jay-Z motherfucker, who you think this is?

I heard his body was too hot to get near it
Too late to hear it
Two slugs wait to release his spirit
The known truth: had a bad
Habit for blowing loot
Two niggas on the roof busting
Down at the phone booth
Running for cover at point blank
Cause bullets is hovering
Drug them in after the slug went in
I take a phrase in God we trust it's a must
Live by the gun die by the same shit you bust
Fly bitches with waves from DC to Cali
Rally and tally up my dough
For the grand finale
Grapevines throughout the alley
Unknown figures said
Trigger lead knew how bad we
Needed the nigga dead
Thoughts of hating sober intoxicated
Minds is taking over
Conjure all ways escape closer
Never spar drove the car to
The edge of the tar with intentions to scar
Shooting motherfuckerss to Allah