Lyrics [Swizz Beatz:] Just Blaze, hey, hands up Swizzy, hey, hands up 1, 2, 3, here we go! [Verse 1:] Microphone check one two what is this? The Yardfather coming to give niggas the business It's so beyond rap, cock sucker we live this So uhm, come on baby, come on, come on and witness The next ten years of this shit, the slickness is deliberate Lyrically it's as sick as it get I been in the pen, been in the jects, been in the? I been in the Benz, been in the Lex, been in the MSX Yes, I run ringers around the fraudulant type Come here and I'll show you that I spit on just more then a mic I make it hard for niggas to breathe, please These wicked emcees squeeze Hammers like the Pampers used to squeeze, hit the DT I Mike Tyson ya eye, put a permenant ring around it Then go run in the booth and sing about it Look, if I don't hurt the nigga that play with my wealth I'm like me on Entourage god, I'm playing myself, let's go [Chorus: Swizz Beatz] Hold up, the pump will make you jump up Put ya body in the tr-unk (Don't you baby, don't you baby, don't ya baby) Keep goin now... New York, and all the way to Cali And the South'll make ya j-ump (Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby) Don't touch the boy, yup Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up Put ya body in the tr-unk (Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby) I'll whip ya ass from... New York, and all the way to Cali And the South'll make ya jump 1, 2, 3, we gone! [Verse 2:] [Jay-Z] You ain't crazy, don't you play me, don't you know it's Jay-Z? When internets ask who's the best, why won't you say me? Don't you hate me? C'mon baby, was it all gravy? I took my lumps comin up just like a boxer baby My first style - hmm, maybe if I stuttered, maybe But then I slowed it down, brought it from the gutter baby Mat'a fact, I don't give a FUCK where you rate me Record labels told me, "No" - guess what the fuck they made me?! Super rich! Stupid bitches know I'm super viscious Like, standin over a wounded man wit, two biscuits Let's get it clear like eucalyptus, if you conflicted My flow is like the Cuban Missle Crisis Nigga, my hand missles in priceless I hide a couple rare jewels in a verse For my niggas that like to listen like this Hahahaha - you gotta let it do what it do, baby C'MON! Chorus Verse 3: Four finger, three finger, two finger, one finger Hum dinger, gun slinger, that's what I am Trying to get some cash in my hand as fast as I can So you should, come on baby, come on, come on and fuck with ya man I got this rap shit down to a science Alotta niggas shit is aight but they ain't fucking with Brian First there was some defiance, until I formed an alliance With Justin, he plugged me in, now I'm as hot as a fucking iron You lying, all the gunplay talk Knowing behind closed doors you be practicing on ya runway walk I been in the kill, been in the cap, been in the box and back I been in the ville, tripping the gat, trimming a boxing match And I still walk around this fucker with not a scratch And that's way more then I can say for alot of cats My name's Saigon nigga Break bread mufucka 'fore I break ya fucking head lil sucka [Chorus: Swizz Beatz] Hold up, the pump will make you jump up Put ya body in the tr-unk (Don't you baby, don't you baby, don't ya baby) Keep goin now... New York, and all the way to Cali And the South'll make ya j-ump (Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby) Don't touch the boy, yup Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up Put ya body in the tr-unk (Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby) I'll whip ya ass from... New York, and all the way to Cali And the South'll make ya jump 1, 2, 3, we gone!