Інструменти
Ensembles
Genres
Композитори
Виконавці

Текст: Jay-Z. Reasonable Doubt. Politics As Usual.

You know how we do
Roc-A-Fella forever

You can catch me
Skatin' through your town puttin' it down y'all relatin'
No waitin' I'll make your block infrared hot I'm like Satan
Y'all feel a nigga's struggle y'all think a nigga love to
Hustle behind the wheel tryin' to escape my trouble

Kids stop they greetin' me I'm talkin' sweet to keys
Cursin' the very God that bought this wreath to be
My life is based on sacrifices, jewels like ices
And fools that think I slip, you fuck around

You get your guys hit, they built me to be filthy
On some I do or die shit, for real
The price of leather's got me, deeper than ever and
Just think, with this here, I'm tryin' to feel made nigga

Politics as usual I

Took my Frito to Tito in the district, blessed me with some
VS somethin's I can live with, stop frontin'
And for the dough I raise, gotta get shit appraised
No disrespect to you, make sure you word is true

I'm takin' wages down in Vegas just in case Tyson
Have a major night off, that's clean money, the tax write-off
You ain't seen money in your life, when it
Comes to this cheese y'all like Three Blind Mice

A smokin' bro, who pump Willie Ike spokes
The furthest you Chiles been is the Pocanos
My portfolio reads, ?leads to Don Corleone, nigga please?
Ten year felon, heavy on the wrist, our face used

With the diamond blooded hey, Susan and blind your face
Youse for life, sharight, Jigga, I keep it tight nigga

Politics as usual

You feel my triumph never, feel my pain I'm lyin'
Low in the leather Zion, the best that's ever came
The game changes like, my mind just ain't right
We 'gwan get this dough, I guess it ain't your night

Suckin' me in like a vacuum, I remember
Tellin' my family I'll be back soon, that was December
Eighty five and, Jay-Z rise ten years later
Got me wise still can't break my underworld ties

I wear black a lot, in the Ac', act a lot
Got matchin' VCR's, a huge Magnavox
To nitch, green like spinach pop wines that's vintage
It's a lot of big money in my sentence

Hittin' towards a mil', lip a, written I kill like that
Chick faked me one-two cat, yeah, I do dat
Ain't no stoppin' the champagne from poppin'
The drawers from droppin', the law from watchin', I hate 'em

Politics as usual