Jay-Z › Lyrics › Face Off

Sauce mothafuckin, jigga, feel this

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

Yeah, if ya want some, put ya guns up, it's on
Ladies know that when the sun's up, I'm gone
F*** them b****** though, digits though
F***, now if I bring it, niggas know what

All black gat with the mack out
I take shorty to the rest, blow her back out
Sun dress, undress, throw her back out
In and out like a crack house, keep it moving

Face off with the .38 scraped off
Keep shorty maced, can't throw a 4-4 eight ball
Know your place, so it starts when ya least expect
The yeast infect, you don't imitate b******
Piece protected, so, I hear you hate b******

Love the dough, ya flow irritate niggas
F*** them though, it's all out and have a fall out
I f***** ya girl, on top, now we call out, f*** the world
Face off!

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

I apologize ladies, I'm lovin' you right
You must be used to me trickin' but we f*****' tonight
No wine, no dine, no wheelin' the whip
All night long just feelin' the dick

Sauce mothafuckin', slayin', I'm sayin' with no delayin'
Can you beat that? I eat that, you just playin'
Nigga, you never know what a chick could do
Pull the trigga too, check the s***, jigga do

My crew, mackin' the same b****, I do
Back man stack grands, daddy like I you
Love them hoes jigga, ha, how that sound?
Women start to fall, we all bat around

Let my whole team hit it, scatter 'round
You never seen wit it, pat 'em down
Check for cream in it, these riches
Got nothin' to do wit these b******
Nothin' y'all can do to stop these digits
Face off!

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

Can I touch that? What's that? Leave it for dead
Keep your arm over your face, my nigga, keep your head
Keep a mind to survive, if ya sleep ya dead
Stay fly 'til ya die nigga, deep with prayer

With each word ya say, I guess, the b*** is dead
Ladies and gentlemen, like impeach the prez
Val Kilmer style nigga draw heat with feds
Broad day like De Niro, shoot all day

I'm the man f*****' the tracks and you just foreplay
Get a hit, I, I come through, blow up, you spit out
What, keep it cocked faithfully like salop
With one in the drop, don't get hit up

I be the four-fifth flamer and hoes b**** shamer
What clap cats a snitch, she'll give ya whole click, name up
Look, I done came up and thought a whole game up
Meet me in the square with one in the chamber
The face off, nigga

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

This goes out to my Brooklyn crew
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

This goes out
Put ya guns up in the air if ya feel me, if ya feel
F*** 'em all day, f*** 'em all night
We don't love these hoes

Yeah, this goes out to my Brooklyn crew