"Intro - Hand It Down" lyrics
(feat. Memphis Bleek)
Sorry boys
But all the money in the world couldn't bring me back again
Lay down, lay down
Gonna stretch my mic out in Ponce Funeral Home on Marcy
Always knew I'd make a stop there
But a lot later than a whole gang of people thought
The last of the real hustlers, well, maybe not the last
Bleek's gonna be a good rapper
New, improved Jay-Z I quit
I'm retiring, ain't enough money in this game to keep me around
Sorry Big, I tried, honest
Can't go with me on this ride though, I'm calling the shots
The bar's closing, where we going to for breakfast?
Roc-A-Fella y'all OK, I'm reloaded!
"Bringing the drama"
"Trying to come up in the game" "Marcy"
"Add a couple of dollar signs to my name" "Roc-A-Fella y'all"
"One of the best!"
"Waiting for my day to come"
"Just give me the word"
Nah this ain't Jigga, it's your little nigga Bleek
Reporting to these motherfuckers live from the street
Game I peeped those, my mind so advanced
At nine I used to geese hoes for Easter clothes
Peep the steez, I represent for all those
With 28 grams, on a come-up trying to creep the keys
Large niggas told me park the car, keep the keys
Find a hood rat and creep to Mickey D's
First gun two bullets, niggas know I do pull it
Niggas trying to kill me dog, who wouldn't?
Screw Gooden, I pitch in the PJs
Lit off the EJ, I split Dutchies with my ring finger
You find a bitch that owe me cream, bring her
Last seen with Bing, he got dropped between us
Shit is constant, that's why I pack the
Johnson and Johnson for the nonsense, who wants it?
I go to sleep with a picture of a Porsche on my wall
Man I'm trying to come up on y'all, get one up on y'all
That's why I hustle in these streets from sundown to sunup on y'all
Mama said keep bullshitting they'll kill you dead
One week of this hustling brought a living room set
Went to Tom D's, niggas mad, veins out
Copped the Jordan's, two weeks before they came out
Flashy, fly little nigga
Nosy bitch from the third floor like "Why little nigga?"
Bitch please, twist the trees
Took a long pull, like bitch to breathe
That's my answer, life's like cancer
And I'm serious
"Waiting for my day to come"
"Just give me the word"
But all the money in the world couldn't bring me back again
Lay down, lay down
Gonna stretch my mic out in Ponce Funeral Home on Marcy
Always knew I'd make a stop there
But a lot later than a whole gang of people thought
The last of the real hustlers, well, maybe not the last
Bleek's gonna be a good rapper
New, improved Jay-Z I quit
I'm retiring, ain't enough money in this game to keep me around
Sorry Big, I tried, honest
Can't go with me on this ride though, I'm calling the shots
The bar's closing, where we going to for breakfast?
Roc-A-Fella y'all OK, I'm reloaded!
"Bringing the drama"
"Trying to come up in the game" "Marcy"
"Add a couple of dollar signs to my name" "Roc-A-Fella y'all"
"One of the best!"
"Waiting for my day to come"
"Just give me the word"
Nah this ain't Jigga, it's your little nigga Bleek
Reporting to these motherfuckers live from the street
Game I peeped those, my mind so advanced
At nine I used to geese hoes for Easter clothes
Peep the steez, I represent for all those
With 28 grams, on a come-up trying to creep the keys
Large niggas told me park the car, keep the keys
Find a hood rat and creep to Mickey D's
First gun two bullets, niggas know I do pull it
Niggas trying to kill me dog, who wouldn't?
Screw Gooden, I pitch in the PJs
Lit off the EJ, I split Dutchies with my ring finger
You find a bitch that owe me cream, bring her
Last seen with Bing, he got dropped between us
Shit is constant, that's why I pack the
Johnson and Johnson for the nonsense, who wants it?
I go to sleep with a picture of a Porsche on my wall
Man I'm trying to come up on y'all, get one up on y'all
That's why I hustle in these streets from sundown to sunup on y'all
Mama said keep bullshitting they'll kill you dead
One week of this hustling brought a living room set
Went to Tom D's, niggas mad, veins out
Copped the Jordan's, two weeks before they came out
Flashy, fly little nigga
Nosy bitch from the third floor like "Why little nigga?"
Bitch please, twist the trees
Took a long pull, like bitch to breathe
That's my answer, life's like cancer
And I'm serious
"Waiting for my day to come"
"Just give me the word"
Writer(s): Shawn Carter, Woody Cunningham, Justin Smith
