Saigon, JAY-Z - Come On Baby lyrics
[Saigon, JAY-Z - Come On Baby lyrics]
Put your hands up put your hands up
Ladies and gentleman your now
Rockin' with the best just Blaze
Put your hands up Swizzy
Put your hands up Diddy
One two three here we go
Microphone check one two what is this?
The Yardfather coming to give
Niggas the business
It's so beyond rap, cock sucker we live this
So um, come on baby, come on
Come on and witness
The next ten years of this shit
The slickness is deliberate
Lyrically it's as sick as it get
I been in the pen, been in the jects
Been in the inter taps
I been in the Benz, been in the Lex
Been in the MSX
Yes, I run ringers around the fraudulent type
Come here and I'll show you that I
Spit on just more than a mic
I make it hard for niggas to breathe, please
These wicked emcees squeeze
Hammers like the Pampers used to squeeze
Hit the DT i Mike Tyson ya eye
Put a permanent ring around it
Then go run in the booth and sing about it
Look, if I don't hurt the nigga
That play with my wealth
I'm like me on Entourage
God, I'm playing myself, let's go
Hold up, the pump will make you jump up
Put ya body in the tr-unk keep goin now
New York, and all the way to Cali and
The South'll make ya ju-ump
Don't touch the boy, yup!
Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up
Put ya body in the tr-unk
I'll whip ya ass from new York
And all the way to Cali and
The South'll make ya ju-ump
One, two, three, we gone!
You ain't crazy, don't you play me
Don't you know it's Jay-Z?
When internets ask who's the best
Why won't you say me?
Don't you hate me? C'mon baby
Wasn't all gravy i took my lumps comin up
Just like a boxer baby
My first style - hmm, maybe if I stuttered
Maybe but then I slowed it down
Brought it from the gutter baby matter fact
I don't give a FUCK where you rate me
Record labels told me
"No" - guess what the fuck they made me?!
Super rich! Stupid bitches know
I'm super vicious
Like, standin over a wounded man wit
Two biscuit's
Let's get it clear like eucalyptus
If you conflicted
My flow is like the Cuban Missile Crisis
Nigga, my near misses are crisis
I hide a couple rare jewels in a verse
For my niggas that like to listen like this
Ha ha haha - you gotta let it do what it do
Baby c'MON!
Four finger, three finger, two finger
One finger
Humdinger, gun slinger, that's what I am
I spit it slick as the shit
That's in a Crisco can
So you should, c'mon baby
C'mon c'mon and get witcha man
Got the rap shit down to a chemistry
Lotta fakes in the industry
But I don't let them get to me
I rock for my brothers that's
Locked in the penitentiary
Me, Jay and Swizzy got the
"Symphony of the Century"
Roc-A-Fella, Fort Knox, fucker ya heard that!
I don't know where you be
But see I be where the birds at
She ask me buy her a drink
I get her some 'gnac then it's, c'mon baby
C'mon c'mon let's merk to the back
And way before my contract, I had hoes
Rappers claim that they had broads
But I doubt that they was bad broads
I'm feelin disrespected
If everybody fuckin dimes
Who got all these UGLY bitches pregnant?!
Ladies and gentleman your now
Rockin' with the best just Blaze
Put your hands up Swizzy
Put your hands up Diddy
One two three here we go
Microphone check one two what is this?
The Yardfather coming to give
Niggas the business
It's so beyond rap, cock sucker we live this
So um, come on baby, come on
Come on and witness
The next ten years of this shit
The slickness is deliberate
Lyrically it's as sick as it get
I been in the pen, been in the jects
Been in the inter taps
I been in the Benz, been in the Lex
Been in the MSX
Yes, I run ringers around the fraudulent type
Come here and I'll show you that I
Spit on just more than a mic
I make it hard for niggas to breathe, please
These wicked emcees squeeze
Hammers like the Pampers used to squeeze
Hit the DT i Mike Tyson ya eye
Put a permanent ring around it
Then go run in the booth and sing about it
Look, if I don't hurt the nigga
That play with my wealth
I'm like me on Entourage
God, I'm playing myself, let's go
Hold up, the pump will make you jump up
Put ya body in the tr-unk keep goin now
New York, and all the way to Cali and
The South'll make ya ju-ump
Don't touch the boy, yup!
Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up
Put ya body in the tr-unk
I'll whip ya ass from new York
And all the way to Cali and
The South'll make ya ju-ump
One, two, three, we gone!
You ain't crazy, don't you play me
Don't you know it's Jay-Z?
When internets ask who's the best
Why won't you say me?
Don't you hate me? C'mon baby
Wasn't all gravy i took my lumps comin up
Just like a boxer baby
My first style - hmm, maybe if I stuttered
Maybe but then I slowed it down
Brought it from the gutter baby matter fact
I don't give a FUCK where you rate me
Record labels told me
"No" - guess what the fuck they made me?!
Super rich! Stupid bitches know
I'm super vicious
Like, standin over a wounded man wit
Two biscuit's
Let's get it clear like eucalyptus
If you conflicted
My flow is like the Cuban Missile Crisis
Nigga, my near misses are crisis
I hide a couple rare jewels in a verse
For my niggas that like to listen like this
Ha ha haha - you gotta let it do what it do
Baby c'MON!
Four finger, three finger, two finger
One finger
Humdinger, gun slinger, that's what I am
I spit it slick as the shit
That's in a Crisco can
So you should, c'mon baby
C'mon c'mon and get witcha man
Got the rap shit down to a chemistry
Lotta fakes in the industry
But I don't let them get to me
I rock for my brothers that's
Locked in the penitentiary
Me, Jay and Swizzy got the
"Symphony of the Century"
Roc-A-Fella, Fort Knox, fucker ya heard that!
I don't know where you be
But see I be where the birds at
She ask me buy her a drink
I get her some 'gnac then it's, c'mon baby
C'mon c'mon let's merk to the back
And way before my contract, I had hoes
Rappers claim that they had broads
But I doubt that they was bad broads
I'm feelin disrespected
If everybody fuckin dimes
Who got all these UGLY bitches pregnant?!