[Intro/Chorus: repeat 2X]
And we gon` stay hustlin on that block until we caught
And we gon` stay showin off that jewelry that we bought
And we gon` stay leavin out the stores with heavy bags
Cause we poppin tags, pimpin we be poppin tags!
[Verse One: Jay-Z]
We arose, let`s go
So Fresh So Clean like `Kast
Jay-Z be poppin tags
Leavin the mall with heavy bags
You know the boy got a love for the cash
Aw fuck, there he go again
Talkin bout hoes and dough again
Yup! -- Can`t hold it in
I`m surprised I got so much dough to spend
But, back when I was poorer then
You wasn`t focusin, about the dough I spend
But I was holdin in, I was a roller then
I was a baller back then, all of that man
Fall back, I fought that
What would you do if you was in my shoes?
Leave dudes in the rearview
V-12 engine, corners spinnin
Twinkies shinin, pinky ring
Armadale, nigga stinky stink
Top, down, my cash is up
Gold chain, I don`t give a fuck
Gold brain`ll get you in the truck ma
That`s right, you in luck ma
You see me cruisin down, better step inside
Ain`t enough room to fit you all in the ride
First come, first served basis
You know Hov` be goin to nice places
That`s right, and I`m droppin cash
Leave the mall with garbage bags
Gucci this, Prada that
Roll witcha boy you`ll be poppin tags
[Chorus]
[Verse Two: Twista]
It`s a party when I go up in the sto`
Shoppin while I`m zooted off the dro`
Rollin like a nigga that just came up on a mill`
and I got `em sweepin and pickin up tags off the flo`
Bag full of clothes I remember havin rocks in the hall
on the glimmer with the glock by the ball
Servin up a jab and workin security 6 to 6
Then it`s straight from the block to the mall
Now what`s on the wall? Go ahead and treat yo`self
When you come up on some cheddar better pop that tag
Like when I dip off in the Prada then I go off
to the lot lay the paper down and cop that Jag
I got a console full of ammunition and funds
Mink Roc-a-Wear and some guns
Petty in a fresh pair of jumps, blo-packs and Bo Jax
and Air Maxes, throw back some ones, no max for none
(When I go up in the sto` a nigga never get enough)
I`m a baller and if you want it come and get it now
(Nigga come to a race with a car you won`t catch up)
And the Twista kinda wicked when I spit it now
I be choppin up cheddar with Kanye
Chop a little cheddar up with Jay
Chop it up with the O-to-the-Kizay
Poppin big tags with the flow and the dough, we get bi-zay!
[Chorus]
[Verse Three: Killer Mike]
Uh-huh, whattup? Tell you somethin bout me..
My throwback game is whiffle wicked
Saint Patties day, green pinstripe, number 20 Mark Spitz`n
Jersey ooh-wee with the matchin Nu*Wear fitted
White boys say my style is bitchin
Keepin coke in the kitchen
Keep a glock that will shock and bring the rest
tucked underneath my Mitchell & Ness
I, travellin, handlin with a forty-five cannon
It`s tucked in my Marc Buchanan
Extra clips and shells in the lambskin
Two deep by Pelle Pelle
Westside how they felly fell
More G`s on me, than a late 80`s Gucci leather
worn by the great Rakim himself
Stitch my Dapper Dan oh man with the gun in hand
I leave your blood squirting
No offense, I`ll put your face on the chest
of a sweatshirt drawn by Shirt Kings
I been fucking, a hustle, married to a racket
since the first Air Jordan`s and Starter jackets
I slept with a package, under mattress
I carry guns heavy speakeasy, slight with the fight words
I`ll put somethin hot through your motherfuckin iceberg
Got a project chica, named Rica
She keep a purse full of dro` reefer
