So Ghetto Lyrics - Vol. 3: The Life & Times Of St. Carter - Jay-z

[Jay-Z] 

Back at'cha 

How we do 

Primo, Jigga-Man 

History in the making 

Let's go 

Uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH 

Uh-huh-uh-uhh, uhh 

I spit the murder-murder-murderous 

Mur-mur-ma-murderous SHIT 

Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-huh-uh-UHH 

I keep the gangsta-gangsta-gangsta 

Gah-gah-ga-gangsta beat, feel me? Uhh 

I spit that Brooklyn-Brooklyn-Brook 

Uh-uhh, uh-huh-uh-uhh, uh-uhh 

Uh-huh-UHH 

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Yo. career crook, nobody rap Brooklyn like me 

Jigga-Man, Volume 3, I'm back lookin like me 

Stop the presses, baby girls, drop your dresses 

B-K lick a shot for Big Pop' in heaven 

Ever since I came through, niggaz got the impression 

everything I drop, out of the question, stop the guessin 

it's hot, flows provin I pack cause my dough's movin 

My whole crew up in this muh'fucker 

We spray corners, stand there like you got a cape on ya, fine 

You'll be wearing a black suit a long time 

I put your crew in hard bottoms 

The priest is like, "God's got him 

He never did nuttin to nobody but them boys shot him" 

Brandish iron, outlandish buyin 

Bentley Coupes, not braggin just simply the truth 

We all from the ghetto, only difference, we go back 

Back up in D&D on this Primo track, listen 

Photos 

Chorus: Jay-Z {scratching by DJ Premier} 

I'm so gangsta prissy chicks don't wanna fuck with me 

"Iceberg, Slim baby ride rims" 

I'm so gutter, ghetto girls fall in love with me 

"You know him well." ".by the name of Jigga" 

I'm so gangsta prissy chicks don't wanna fuck with me 

"You can love me or hate me." ".Jay-Z" 

I'm so gutter, ghetto girls fall in love with me 

"Roc-a-Fella lock the whole block down" 

[Jay-Z] 

Wednesday's I'm up in Shine, Cheetah's Monday night 

I'm fuckin with the model chicks Friday night at light 

So I'm cruisin in the car with this boozy broad 

She said, "Jigga-Man you rich, take the doo-rag off" 

Hit a U-turn; ma I'm droppin you back off 

Front of the club, "Jigga why you do that for?" 

Thug nigga til the end, tell a friend bitch 

Won't change for no paper plus I been rich 

Eighty-eight been hustlin, linen been crushin em 

Women been fuckin them HUH? 

You see I live for the love of the street 

Rap to the ruggedest beats 

Hall closet cluttered with heat 

I spit that murder-murder-murder 

that Brook-Brook-a-Brooklyn shit 

Furthermore ma. 

We tote guns to the Grammy's, pop bottles on the White House lawn 

Guess I'm just the same old Shawn 

Chorus 

[Jay-Z] 

I'm from the M-to-the-A-baby-R-C-Y 

So it's hard for me to let the larceny die 

Niggaz see me in the streets with no bodyguards 

just two big guns that'll body your squad 

Could niggaz be scheamin on me? Probably are 

Think Jigga's a joke nigga? Hardy har 

I spit Brook-Brook-Brooklyn every time I bust 

Radio's gotta play me though I cuss too much 

Magazine said I'm shallow, I never learned to swim 

Still they put me on they cover cause I earn for them 

Soon as I sell too much, watch them turn on him 

cause that seem to be the shit that'll earn for them 

I spit that murder-murder-murderous everytime a verbalist 

iller than Verbal Kint is or O-Dog in "Menace" 

I'm ill, start to finish, I rip apart contenders 

I'm hot. hehehehe. 

Chorus 

[Jay-Z] 

I'm so gangsta prissy chicks don't wanna fuck with me, uhh 

I'm so gutter, ghetto girls . 

Heheh, (uhh, uhh, uh-huh-uh-uhh), yeah 

Uhh, yeah, funk, yeah, with me, yeah, beyotch, yeah 

Jigga, yeah, Primo, yeah, gangsta, yeah, niggaz, yeah 

Brooklyn, yeah