Jay-Z Lyrics

Album: Unknown

Politics as Usual Lyrics

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 nig-ga

 

 Politics as us-ual... I took my

 Frito to Tito in the district, blessed me with some

 VS somethins 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 feleon, heavy on the wrist, our face used

 with the diamond blooded Jesus and blind your face

 youse for life... sharight, Jigga, I keep it tight nig-ga

 

 Politics as us-ual...

 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 vacumn, 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 us-ual