Jay-Z Interview

[Verse 1: Hit-Boy]

All these niggas really know my at bat average, ridiculous rap patterns

And fuck what you know, this Youngen got the coldest beats

All my old hoes laying in the coldest sheets

Even if they married they still can't get over me

You 0 for 3, I'm shooting a hundred right from the field now

I'm just a Fresh Prince, buzzing like Uncle Phil's child

And I Will style, peace to all my Hilary's

Stuffin' money in banks, hitting Marilyn's like a Kennedy

And if you feeling me, just let me know it

'Cos I just set the stage and get these words off like a poet

I'm Robert Frost cold on these hoes, I just give them the

Edgar Allen Poe up

Sippin something expensive and party 'till they throw up

Hold up

All my niggas roll up, until the cops show up

My momma says "momma's son is a millionaire"

And just for that, throw your ones up in the air

This is Freshman Adjustment meets Late Registration

Connected up with the kings all 'cos of Ricky's relations

To the nigga I've been studying since I started creating

Now all these niggas is hating, waiting, judging, debating

Tryin' to charge me with a flagrant, but I will not stop

They tryin' to Derek Fisher the boy, but I will not flop

Instead I take it bassline, like Kobe

And I play my own drums and basslines, you know me, homie

I'm getting courted by the bosses

The Ye's, the Hov's, the Puff's, and all them nigga's who's notorious for flossing

Known to be in places these niggas ain't never heard of

I fucked women and watched thrones up in the Mercer

Sign my signature in cursive for them incidentals

Then we got fucked up off that Ace listening to instrumentals

I came a long way from that place where niggas can't wait to get you

And now you copped your favorite mag and I'm in the latest issue

And all the bitches I could never bag, they steadily claiming they miss you

And it's a shame when I get the low-fade

Have all these women feeling like the fourth grade

Crushin on a Youngen, 'cos they know I'm so paid

Once I get the digits consider me so laid

And none of this shit is fiction cos really I don't play

I changed up my old ways, to kill 'em like OJ

Remind them of a young Mike, fresh J's and a gold chain

I stay tailored like politicians, but fuck like I'm out on bond

Women catching feelings trying to be my first son mom

But I'm catching millions trying to be the first one on

And my CD, do you feel me, if you coming, come on

IE nigga, I'm a IE nigga

Went from Colton High School to the widescreen nigga

Couldn't walk in my shoes or jog by me nigga

Since I play by my rules I acquired these figures

Now a nigga got enough to supersize, ride with him

No surprise, all these Benjamins inside my denim

Couldn't be the nigga sitting on the sideline benching

Open minds will be the ones to oblige my vision

Televise my mission, on channel 5, see me in the news

They monitor my every move, wanna see me lose

Hear the shit I spit like "what the fuck has gotten into you?"

I got 'em tuned in like a Jay-Z interview