Jay-Z - Brooklyn's Finest (feat Notorious B.I.G.) скачать mp3

"Brooklyn's Finest" (feat. Notorious B.I.G.) [Pain In Da Ass] [gunshots] OKAY, I'M RELOADED!!! You motherfuckers, think you big time? Fuckin with Jay-Z, you gon' die, big time! Here come the "Pain"! [gunshots] [Jay-Z] Jigga... (Jigga), Bigga... (Bigga) Nigga, how you figure... (how you figure) Yeah, yeah, yeah, aiyyo Peep the style and the way the cops sweat us (uh-huh) The number one question is can the Feds get us (uh-huh) I got vendettas in dice games against ass betters (uh-huh) and niggaz who pump wheels and drive Jettas Take that witcha.. [Notorious B.I.G.] .. hit ya, back split ya Fuck fist fights and lame scuffles Pillow case to your face, make the shell muffle Shoot your daughter in the calf muscle Fuck a tussle, nickel-plated Sprinkle coke on the floor, make it drug related Most hate it.. [Jay-Z] .. can't fade it While y'all pump Willie, I run up in stunts silly Scared, so you sent your little mans to come kill me But on the contrilli, I packs the mack-milli Squeezed off on him, left them paramedics breathin soft on him What's ya name? [Notorious B.I.G.] .. Who shot ya? Mob ties like Sinatra Peruvians tried to do me in, I ain't paid them yet Tryin to push 700's, they ain't made them yet Rolex and bracelets is frostbit; rings too Niggaz 'round the way call me Igloo Stix (Who?) Motherfucker! [Chorus] Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers (Where you from?) Brooklyn, goin out for all Marcy - that's right - you don't stop Bed-Stuy.. you won't stop, nigga! [Jay-Z] What, what, what? Jay-Z, Big' Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers Brooklyn represent y'all, hit you fold You crazy, think your little bit of rhymes can play me? I'm from Marcy, I'm varsity, chump, you're JV (Jigga) Jay-Z [Notorious B.I.G.] .. and Bigga baby! My Bed-Stuy flow's malicious, delicious Fuck three wishes, made my road to riches from 62's, gem stars, my moms dishes Gram choppin, police van dockin D's at my doors knockin [Jay-Z] What? Keep rockin No more, Mister, Nice Guy, I twist your shit the fuck back with them pistols, blazin Hot like cajun Hotter than even holdin work at the Days Inn with New York plates outside Get up outta there, fuck your ride [Notorious B.I.G.] Keep your hands high, shit gets steeper Here comes the Grim Reaper, Frank Wright Leave the keys to your In-tegra (That's right) Chill homie, the bitch in the Shoney's told me You're holdin more drugs than a pharmacy, you ain't harmin me So pardon me, pass the safe, before I blaze the place and here's six shots just in case (Brooklyn... Brooklyn... Brooklyn...) [Chorus] Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers (Where you from?) Brooklyn goin out to all (Crown Heights...) You don't stop (Brownsville...) You won't stop, nigga! (Brooklyn... Brooklyn... Brooklyn...) Hah hah! Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers (Where we from?) Brooklyn goin out to all (Bushwick...) You don't stop (Fort Greene...) You won't stop, niggaz! [Jay-Z] Yeah, yeah, yeah For nine six, the only MC with a flu Yeah I rhyme sick, I be what you're tryin to do Made a fortune off Peru, extradite, china white heron Nigga please, like short sleeves I bear arms Stay out my way from here on (CLEAR?) Gone! [Notoriuos B.I.G.] Me and Gutter had two spots The two for five dollar hits, the blue tops Gotta go, Coolio mean it's gettin "Too Hot" If Fay' had twins, she'd probably have two-Pac's Get it? .. Tu-pac's [Jay-Z] Time to separate the pros from the cons The platinum from the bronze That butter soft shit from that leather on th