Jay-Z - Poppin Tags (feat Big Boi, Twista, Killer Mike) | Текст песни

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• Jay-Z
• Poppin Tags (feat Big Boi, Twista, Killer Mike)

[Verse One: Jay-Z]
We arose, let's go
"So Fresh So Clean" like 'Kast
Jay-Z be popping tags
Leaving the mall with heavy bags You know the boy got a love for the cash
Aw fuck, there he go again
Talking about hoes and dough again Yup! — Can't hold it in
I'm surprised I got so much
dough to spend
But, back when I was poorer
then You wasn't focusing, about the dough I spend
But I was holding in, I was a
roller then I was a baller back then, all of that man
Fall back, I fought that
What would you do if you was in my shoes? Leave dudes in the rearview V-12 engine, corners spinning Twinkies shining, pinky ring
Armadale, nigga stinky stink
Top, down, my cash is up
Gold chain, I don't give a fuck
Gold brain'll get you in the truck ma That's right, you in luck ma You see me cruising down, better step inside
Ain't enough room to fit you all in the ride First come, first served basis You know Hov' be goin to nice places That's right, and I'm droppin cash
Leave the mall with garbage bags Gucci this, Prada that
Roll with you boy you'll be
popping tags
[Chorus]
[Verse Two: Twista]
It's a party when I go up in the
store Shoppin while I'm zooted off the dro' Rollin like a nigga that just came up on a mill'
and I got 'em sweeping and
pickin up tags off the floor
Bag full of clothes I remember
having rocks in the hall
on the glimmer with the glock by the ball Serving up a jab and working security 6 to 6
Then it's straight from the block to the mall Now what's on the wall? Go ahead and treat yourself When you come up on some cheddar better pop that tag Like when I dip off in the Prada then I go off
to the lot lay the paper down
and cop that Jag I got a console full of ammunition and funds Mink Roc-a-Wear and some guns Petty in a fresh pair of jumps, blo-packs and Bo Jax and Air Maxes, throw back some ones, no max for none (When I go up in the store a nigga never get enough) I'm a baller and if you want it come and get it now
(Nigga come to a race with a car you won't catch up)
And the Twista kinda wicked
when I spit it now I be choppin up cheddar with
Kanye Chop a little cheddar up with Jay Chop it up with the O-to-the-Kizay
Poppin big tags with the flow
and the dough, we get bi-zay!
[Chorus]
[Verse Three: Killer Mike]
Uh-huh, what's up? Tell you
something about me..
My throwback game is whiffle
wicked Saint Patties day, green pinstripe, number 20 Mark Spitz'n'Jersey ooh-wee with the matchin Nu*Wear fitted
White boys say my style is bitchin Keeping coke in the kitchen Keep a glock that will shock and bring the rest
tucked underneath my Mitchell and Ness
I, travelling, handling with a
forty-five cannon
It's tucked in my Marc Buchanan Extra clips and shells in the lambskin
Two deep by Pelle Pelle
Westside how they felly fell
More G's on me, than a late 80's Gucci leather
worn by the great Rakim himself Stitch my Dapper Dan oh man with the gun in hand
I leave your blood squirting
No offense, I'll put your face on the chest
of a sweatshirt drawn by Shirt Kings I been fucking, a hustle, married to a racket
since the first Air Jordan's and
Starter jackets I slept with a package, under mattress
I carry guns heavy speakeasy,
slight with the fight words
I'll put something hot through
your motherfucking iceberg
Got a project chica, named Rica She keep a purse full of dro' reefer Small, pinkies like that Talk 'til the paper fat
I rock somethin, roll chief +Sacks like Daddy Fat!
[Chorus]
[Verse Four: Big Boi]
Pop tires in reverse, you'll be
needin a nurse
Leave you laying on your back in a Cadillac hearse
Now your momma in all black
with a matchin purse
I know you wanna blow up, but a funeral hurts
What's worse, you can hit the
mall and ball 'til you fall
Have to

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