[Intro: Jay-Z]
Yeah!
N***a, I could make four more albums off memory!
Y'all ain’t never gonna be better than me
I’ma do this 'til I’m eighty

[Verse 1: Jay-Z]
Everybody wanna rhyme like Hov'
'Cause I rhyme like I be rhyming in the Rov'
Climbing in them hoes
Mind like a diamond, I’ll blind you at the shows
I don’t shine, I glow; I remind you of that dough, don’t I?
Did I? Hustle the game
Just the thought alone give me a boner
Coach cater to a coma
Can’t out-hustle a hustler, you can’t outplay a player
This rap shit is a layup
In my former biz, motherfuckers will spray ya
In the music biz, motherfuckers just say stuff
Spit on you and spray ya, n***as just play tough when the cameras on
When the cameras gone, n***as want to set up meetings
'Cause they know most likely, when I see 'em, I’ma set up a beating
Windows, no tints (Tints); cars, no rims (Nope)
That’s because we handle ours like grown men
I ain’t touch a wheel since I drove the Bent'
That’s 'cause it was a coupe—nah, I ain’t souped
I was telling the truth, and you Tom Cruise—you can’t handle it
Handle it, n***a, is what I do
I tried to be modest on Blueprint 2 (Tch)
But y'all don’t respect modest; y'all respect my dollars
You got to believe I think like a artist
But my bills through the roof—can’t do numbers like The Roots
No disrespect, I be trying to disconnect
But n***as keep pulling me back in, I’m trapped in
My pops got a liver disorder
My whole living's disordered, and I just got his living room ordered
And you wonder why the chip on my shoulder's more like a brick or a boulder
You’ll understand maybe when you get older (Maybe)
Got a hundred n***as on your dick saying, "You ought to record like this," or what have you
N***as is back-stabbing you
Bitches mad at you ‘cause they can’t have you
Press want to know about the daughter of Matthew (What up, Bey?)
Now it’s back to the hood again, all-black hood again
Back to old ladies saying what I could’ve been
Back to the gats—you forgot I’m real good with them
They gon' put a n***a in jail—oh, well
[Hook: 50 Cent & Jay-Z]
If I can’t (Yeah) do it (Ugh)
Homie, it can’t be done

[Verse 2: Jay-Z]
I’m the one, I’m not the two, not the three, not the four, the five
I take the pain from my life, pour it all on the side
Take my strain and my stride, take my ego and pride
Used them to kick down the door, brought my people inside
And I hope you ain’t think I wrote this to entertain you, 'cause that ain’t what I came to do
I will bang you, I will act like orangutans do
I give you hot wings, turn n***as to angels
Understand my angle, I’m safety-first
Don’t make me act like the safety don't work
Tough n***as get it the worst, I’m begging you, come for us
I’m giving motherfuckers dirt comforters

[Outro: Jay-Z]
Ahahaha
Young!
Night-night, n***a, take a dirt nap
S. Carter Collection!
Black Album on its way
I know you hear the footsteps
Tap, tap, tap
Yes!