The headphones is on fire dis time around, Styles
Blood Pressure
y'all just bear wit me
Yo, last time I'ma tell these niggas, man
Can't fuck around, man
Jada, man
Whoever
Old nigga, new nigga
What! Yo, yo, yo

[Jadakiss]
Who really the best rapper since B.I.G. ain't here
y'all know the answer to that when Kiss ain't here
When you see me, don't ask me nothing about us
And don't definitely ask me nothing about,
Fuck it
You owe me one, I owe you two
I would of smacked you wit the burner, but I know you'd sue
And I ain't talking to him
I'm talking to you
Matter of fact, I'm talking to y'all
Life is like walkin a yard
Nigga'll stab you wit a fork in the heart
And The Source got motherfuckers thinking they hot
Like my dope
Got fiends thinking they shot
When you thinking of the best, nigga
Think of The Lox
I'll cut ya fucking hand off if ya pinky ring's hot
Then come through ya block in a sticky green drop
Hop out
Let off fifty-three shots
Wouldn't care if I hit fifty-three cops
Guliani might as well be merking niggas
'cause the time that he giving out is hurting niggas
And all these record label's jerkin niggas
And you never was a thug, you's a working nigga
And you heard that shit right there?
I started that
Don't make me put something up in ya Starter hat
No matter who you are, or where you from
Screw all of that
I'm not trying to hear that, son

[Chorus: x2]
Now, who the fuck y'all want? (Jadakiss!)
And who the fuck y'all need? (Jadakiss!)
And who the fuck gon' bleed?
All y'all haters, 'cause none of y'all niggas (can't fuck wit Jada!!)

[Jadakiss]
Don't you be that clown nigga in the back of the whip
That's gon' get the second half of the clip
And all I'm saying, it'll be the other nigga in the front of the the whip
Running his lip, wit a gun on his hip
Feel me dog?
Everybody walk the walk 'til they run into Kiss
Then, they get stabbed, or hung, or stung wit the fifth
How you think ya man hard when son on my dick?
'cause I can get his ass body, plus front him a brick
Got a chick named Super-head
She give super-head
Just moved in the building, even gave the super head
I cop big guns that spit super lead
So, play Superman, end up super dead
Call ne Kiss, or the kid from The Lox
That'll twist ya moms out and do a bid wit ya pops
We was in jail, you probably won't get no mail
And if you pumped on my block, you won't get no sales
When ya CEO know you can't fuck wit I
I make a million by June
I'm saying fuck July
And I beg you to try me while I'm holding the Tommy
I'ma have ya body all over the lobby
I already helped y'all
I'm about to melt y'all
Tell the truth, dog
I ain't never felt y'all
This album, we gon' bubble like Seltzer
If it ain't Double are, who the hell else is hard?!

[Chorus: x3]

Writer : MARTIN, CHRISTOPHER E/JACOBS, SEAN D/PHILLIPS, JASON T
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing