[Jay-Z] Bounce Uhhh, ha, uhhh, ha Uhhh, uh-huh-uh-uhhh, uhh, uh-huh This for my hustlers.. uh-huh And for the bitches.. yeah
Yo, yo This is for my niggaz down in Houston on candy paint All my niggaz in the Dirty South, Miami mayne All my niggaz in the A-T-L throwin dem bones All them thugs that send slugs through your clothes; holla at me It's for the black culture, Spanish chicks with the sweet chocha Spanish cats with the ki's of cocoa All the haters eat a dick they wanna see you brok-er I hope the heat stroke ya, the misery is over All my deep smokers, I hope the leaf choke ya Hope you'll never be sober I'ma toast to myself I hope the Crist' get me, spiralin into a tizzy So pissy, swervin on the road dizzy May God protect my soul, angels walk with me First do the flow sickly, niggaz is so shifty The fo'-fo' is like a force field, you won't get me I brought some folk with me, Brooklyn is loc'n with me What the fuck?
Chorus: Juvenile (repeat 2X)
You know, we ride All day, all night Pop Crist, shoot dice Fuck hoes, for life
[Jay-Z] This is for my chicks that get dough for takin off they clothes All them money makin honeys that slide down the poles All my educated chicks who grade is 4.0 All the baby mamas across the globe; aiyyo I like my women friends feminine I like my hoes on "X" like Eminem.. shit! I like em bow-legged, never coke-headed With a dough fetish - the drive to go get it I like they toes proper, I like they clothes Prada I like they shoes Gucci, I like new coochie I fucked a few groupies, in a few hoopties I got em iceberg shit they thought I knew Snoopy I cop them Roc-a-Wear, my mamis dedicated They never tell me no, the most they said is "not here" I got they ears studded, both wrists baguetted I got a main chick, a mistress, and a young bitch Forget it I'm the don
[Jay-Z] Wha-What? This is for my dice shooters, cats doin life By the time I get this kite to ya, I hope you doin alright Who got em platinum up? Who got the chicks in the truck? Too much to sit comfortably, they lappin up Who shit is big pimpin? See the flow different I drop heavy then I let the four-fifth flip em I keep rappers talkin to kids, Jigga "Sixth Sense-d" em Don't mention my name and lames in the same sentence You see I'm so thorough, take on your whole borough Be so careful I hear the whistle from the fo'-fo' barrel Keep the flow Hovah; icy neck, cold shoulder Who click is closest to La Costra Nostra? It's "The Roc"