| And we gon’stay hustlin on that block until we caught |
| And we gon’stay showin off that jewelry that we bought |
| And we gon’stay leavin out the stores with heavy bags |
| Cause we poppin tags, trippin’we be poppin tags! |
| And we gon’stay hustlin on that block until we caught |
| And we gon’stay showin off that jewelry that we bought |
| And we gon’stay leavin out the stores with heavy bags |
| Cause we poppin tags, pimpin’we be poppin tags! |
| We arose, let’s go |
| «So Fresh So Clean"like 'Kast |
| Jay-Z be poppin tags |
| Leavin the mall with heavy bags |
| You know the boy got a love for the cash |
| Aw fuck, there he go again |
| Talkin bout 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 focusin, about the dough I spend |
| But I was holdin 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 spinnin |
| Twinkies shinin, 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 cruisin 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 witcha boy you’ll be poppin tags |
| It’s a party when I go up in the sto' |
| Shoppin while I’m zooted off the dro' |
| Rollin like a nigga that just came up on a mill' |
| and I got 'em sweepin and pickin up tags off the flo' |
| Bag full of clothes I remember havin rocks in the hall |
| on the glimmer with the glock by the ball |
| Servin up a jab and workin security 6 to 6 |
| Then it’s straight from the block to the mall |
| Now what’s on the wall? Go ahead and treat yo’self |
| 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 sto’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! |
| Uh-huh, whattup? Tell you somethin bout 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 |
| Keepin coke in the kitchen |
| Keep a glock that will shock and bring the rest |
| tucked underneath my Mitchell and Ness |
| I, travellin, handlin 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 somethin hot through your motherfuckin 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! |
| Pop tires in reverse, you’ll be needin a nurse |
| Leave you layin 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 make a collect call, but your cell cut off |
| Trot to the mailbox thinkin a check but the mail’s run short |
| No more MD, DD, LD That means Movie Date, Dinner Date, Lunch Date, help me please |
| My sheets is gone |
| Long bread to the short bread, word is bond |
| Meticulously pimpously serve the song |
| Act a damn donkey |
| Like the pilgrims when they popped a tag on the indians home |
| Drop top rag-o with the weed gone |
| Chillin, bags in the trunk full of FEO Schwartz for the chill’uns |
| Spent a few shillings |
| Sip a few chickens, lick a few kittens, just kiddin |
| A fresh bowl of milk is in the fridge and |
| Can you pop the tags on the honeycombs |
| Or are you actin mad cause the money done |
| slowed, down, just a little bit |
| Dipped, poked out, did some shull-bit |
| Actin like a pitfall bull-pit |
| Dead game is the pul-pit |
| Leave a motherfucker with his John Doe toe tag clipped |
| Imperial classic, a lyrical thrashin |
| A miracle happenin |
| Jay-Z, Killer Mike and Big Boi rappin and rhymin and smabbin |
| Pop that tag on some of this game |
| Holla-tic, swallow and keep the change |
Informazioni sulla canzone In questa pagina puoi trovare il testo della canzone Poppin' Tags, artista - Jay-Z. Canzone dell'album The Blueprint Collector's Edition, nel genere Рэп и хип-хоп