U Don`t Know Remix lyrics

Artist  : Jay-z 
Song : U Don`t Know Remix



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(feat. M.O.P.)

[Lil Fame]
Time to duck,
fire
Duck, fire, duck, fire
Duck, fire,
duck, FIYAAAAAAAHHH!

(U Don't know what
you're doing, doing, doing, doing)

It's
the MOP (Yes)
1, 1, 2, 3, 3
And
motherfucker we comin, 100 miles and
gunnin
I'm still runnin with cash that's
robbed
From the era of exhale 80's and hats
back stomp
(SAME GAME!) operation for this
industry lockdown
We still tote hammers that
go BLOCKOWWWW
Run up if you wanna, believe me
dog
These hammers with they owners, fuck ya G
up
Have ya with blue 'jamas in a coma,
and
Ya family now moan, look, 70 pounds
gone
A little fuck, scribbled up with a
hospital down on
(WE HOLDIN IT DOWN
HOLMES!)keep pushin weak frail bastards
To get
over, we prowl with slimmer re-shelled
tactics
Jiminy frail bastards, your tracks
need tune-ups
No limit, what the fuck,
recordin for nig' junior
(The game aint
changed)it just got harder
Plus we sponsored
by laz' Dame Dash and Mr. S.
Carter
Brownsville(yep), we stomp in this
bitch all day
Rock with my cock out, face the
crowd and piss off stage

[Billy
Danze]
Uh, Uh, Uh, I'm from the G side of
thangs
Where we ride and bang, where the heat
died of flame
That's how we got the
name(WARRIORS!)
And better than ya bank, and
someone should be tellin 'em
The veterans have
came, and we're better in the game
(YOU BETTER
MAKE IT RAIN!) "27 grams" my man
It's better
than cocaine, now everything will change
In
this family we'll rule the world
And you
haters can eat a dick up till you hiccup and
erm
A decade on the grind, nigga I paid
mine
So it's my time to shine and for you can
ride the pine
I wont sit back and rap like
these dumb ass kids
I been around, I put it
down, I aint these young ass kids
(MOP!) The
OG's repped and survived around this
motherfucka
(FIRST FAMILY!) We kept it live
around this motherucka
When it's crunch time,
we do it our wizzay
For shizzle my nigga,
learn to grip pistols and
BK

[Jay-Z]
WHOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Turn my
music high, high, high, high-er
Mo' fire, mo'
problems, more Roc-a-wear attire
Mo' money,
mo' murder now that M.O.P.'s hired
Mo' murder
for the ROC empire, ya'll wont surface
Ya'll
nervous knowin them guns on full service, ready
to fire
One body, two body, three body,
four
Young sittin on paper, I'm above the
law
Young shittin on haters, I aint fuckin
with ya'll
For my Brownsville neighbors, How
About Some Hardcore?
And it just get worser,
every time I write my signature in
cursive
Just add another million to these
verses
One million, two million, three
million, four
And the money's really
worthless, I'm pissing you off on purpose
My
nephew's situated, and my mama's straight
So
I'm ready for whatever drama should come our
way
And you fuckers rappin to me, so your
drama is fake
Ya'll niggas is noodles, I got
more fetti to bake
Let's get it!