Harry Wayne Casey - Here We Go (J.D. Remix) lyrics

[Hook: Jermaine Dupri] We talk sh**, 'cause we are the sh** Never looked back since we started it When ya'll want heat we provide it, ride it 'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off Six figure n***as with it, over did it, spit it In ways that'll cause a rush Keeping your face in a state of disgust Hating but still trying to be like us [Verse One: Jay-Z] Twist the lime in the Corona, grab my crime diploma Then head to the block, to pull up five in the morn' sh**, I need to chrome up, become a home owner Look, life's a b**h, but I'm on her I almost cracked this, no more hustling backwards Up the Ave I zip, n***a trying to have sh** I'm your average ghetto n***a turned maverick You'd never, said to a n***a "Whatever for the cash, I'm with it" I don't have step, I leave it in your averix Then shoot it in the air, whatever I have left Outlaw, simply I out-draw y'all Whether clubs or the street, I out ball y'all n***as ain't ready, I doubt all y'all Fly a** n***as I re-route all y'all If it ain't for the paper I don't show my face up Make a bet, I turn the ace up, $hort and Jay, what! [Verse Two: Too $hort] I never stop making money, don't give 'em no slack Drinking dirty motherf**ers til a ho' come back With my scratch, b**h I was born to mack To uphold the pimping, I was sworn to that I hear a lot of sh** talking when I listen to rap Only a few MC's get to hang that plaque On the wall rappers ball, but they don't live phat n***a, I doubt if you go Gold or Platinum What we do has only been mastered by a few I take a half a million tapes, sell 'em straight to you All that sh** n***as talking just can't be real I dont need a record deal, I need eighteen wheels I roll right up in the hood, I got tapes for sell b**hes running in their house, they can't wait to tell Somebody, she got a new Too $hort tape And he's spitting pimp game with his homeboy Jay [Hook] [Verse Three: Too $hort] Now here they come again, the golddiggers trying to get paid Wanna trick the old rich n***as, trying to get laid She'll s** his dick, as soon as she meet him Don't have to sell a body for me, I don't need her To turn tricks for me, how much you cost b**h? I'm all about large bank deposits On and off the mic I always set trends Either you see me with b**hes, or I'm rolling with pimps Brook-lyn to Oakland, I keep smokin' Jay-Z and Short Dog at these hoes again The kinda n***as that'll take a square b**h around the corner Put this pimp game on her I don't f** with broke hoes and I don't trick But I'll still rub my big a** dick on her clit Get her hooked, wanna be mine I need some money If she ain't kicking in all the time she don't want me [Verse Four: Jay-Z] Hoes, flows, money, cars Y'all wannabe stars, can't f** with none of these bars This is real n***a rap, we can spit it through the mic And you can feel n***as scratch, and sell a mil', if that So real when we drop this sh** it's in trouble When I guess the pair you gotta ship it double I'm the independent phenom, y'all miniature dons Wannabe Jigga, pops styles and Hennessy richer When I die, leave my canopy richer I put it down hard ever since I entered the picture Can't f** with me for records to the recreational center I got it wrapped y'all from the Grammys to the back park Short dog y'all, what you thought y'all, Oakland, BK, New York y'all Be the voice for the streets we supply for years And go Platinum on our most quiet years [Hook: 3x]