- Song Name: Bring It On
- Artist Name: Jay-Z
- Album: Bring It On: The Best of Jay-Z
- Songwriters: Chris E. Martin, Jonathan Burks, Shawn Carter, Todd Eric Gaither
- Release Date: 2003.11.25
LYRICS FOR "Bring It On"
Aiyyo Jay word up
F*****' talkin' that comeback s*** like they cookin' crack
S*** I ain't frontin' all I want my pockets
Green like slum change you know what I'm sayin'?
Front the roll we roll back like rubbers m***********
For real
We keep our pockets fully blown
Aiyyo we pattin' down pussy from Sugarhill to the Shark Bar
F*** a b**** D in the marked car
We got the bad b****** gaspin' for air in Aspen
Searchin' for aspirin when I ask then
You cling we do our thing and bring
Sling your ding-a-ling from Bed-Stuy Brooklyn to Beijing
East coast hostess hostile colossal
Like nostrils for drug dealin' apostles
Al Pacino down to Nino Brown
Got it sewed across the board like Poquino
Teflon
'Cause I heard
Tropical leaves where I got a few keys
With my man I'll stock a few G's
Said we was garbage
Street knowledge amazin' to scholars when we coin phrases for dollars
Star studded b****** with crystals
Just to see my s***
I drop the stellar
I got to tell all about Roc-A-Fella
Yeah
And if not then let me do my thang
Yeah
And if not then let me do my thang
Yeah
And if not then let me do my thang
Yeah
And if not then let me do my thang
Mannerisms of a young Bobby DeNiro
Spent Spanish wisdoms in a whip with Dinero
Crime organized like the pharaoh
I cream
Got a lot of things to drop Brooklyn to Queens
I gotta keep my steam
Uptown fiend for Jay-Z to appear on the scene
In the meanwhile
Liaison for days on in
Go around so I made songs to spin
Can I live
Like the Mississippi riv'
Can't do for dolo
When Tony killed Manolo that's real
Mixed feelings like a mulatto
Thug thought he was O.G. Bobby Johnson
I played him like Benny Blanco
You ain't ready
Shoot my guns horizontal
I am two point two pounds you're barely
A hundred and twenty-five grams
Wouldn't expect y'all to understand this money
Do the knowledge
Crews Brooklyn through Hollis to a hood near you
Bring it on if you think you can hang
Money is power
Pure platinum fetish for cheddars
Spread letters you move you're deadish
I make moves that remove pebbles out of shoes
You suck pistol like pipe with the Cristal
John Stockton couldn't assist you
Cowboys or Benzes like we foulin' in the U.N.
So what the f*** you doin'?
Whatever nigga Fahrvegnugen
Spankin' dollars with the commas
Bangin' b****** out the Bahamas
On hides of llama we cry Nada
Fry hotter
Absence of malice in my palace
Call cousin now Dallas trigger finger with the callous
Tip scales from mail to keep these niggaz off balance
Your frequent stops to O.T.B. you feedin' me
Steam a nigga schemin' on the wrist action with the gleams
Jewels for Pop Duke fulfill your dreams
Never put the pure brown sugar before the dirty green cream
Yeah
And if not then let me do my thang
Yeah
And if not then let me do my thang
Yeah
And if not then let me do my thang
Yeah
And if not then let me do my thang
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Bring it on if you think
© EMI APRIL MUSIC INC.
© EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC.
© GIFTED PEARL MUSIC INC
© LIL LU LU PUBLISHING
© MCA MUSIC A DIVISION OF UNIVERSAL
© SEPTEMBER 6 MUSIC