| 作曲 : A. Whitehead/Dwight Grant/Harry Ray/Jay-Z/Malik Cox/Roosevelt Harrell/Shawn Carter/Walter Morris/Willie Albert Goodman | |
| Told y'all... Dynasty... Roc-A-Fella Records, you heard me? | |
| Unstoppable, niggaz! Uhh | |
| Memph Bleek.. Amil-lion.. Sigel Sigel ya heard? | |
| It's a Dynasty! Who do you believe? | |
| Jigga Man, mo' better, mo' cheddar | |
| Foes knock the man off your Polo sweater | |
| Roll with the R-O-C, A-Fella | |
| Remember me? The teachers used to fail us | |
| Now it's mo' scrilla, hoe killers | |
| Fo'-wheelers, we - gorillas | |
| Oh please feel us - we heat holders | |
| Fightin? Listen boy, Roy Jones couldn't still us | |
| The plot thickens, the block clickin | |
| We got the game tied up, stop trippin | |
| Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y'all | |
| Memph Bleek what? Amil-lion, uhh | |
| Cat be him, El Cap-i-tan | |
| The fire I spit burn down Happyland | |
| Social Club, we unapproachable thugs | |
| Non-social, gone postal | |
| Great aim, harm the arm close to your toast | |
| like a Don's supposed to, Shawn | |
| I thought I told you, these ain't just vocals | |
| Don't make me take it to the old school | |
| I put holes through your hoes too | |
| through your clothes to the foes to the nigga close to you | |
| **** it; Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y'all | |
| Amil-lion what? Memph Bleek.. | |
| [Memphis Bleek] | |
| Y'all dudes don't - get it, come widdit | |
| Fifth loaded with slugs that'll rest in your fitted | |
| It's M dot E-M, the Roc be them | |
| Got the mamis sayin look, who can stop be them? | |
| You wan' press your dumb luck, get blam blam-ed up | |
| I crush your larynx, you talk 'bout us nigga | |
| No obituary, I get it critical | |
| You know Memph'll hit the pall bearer liftin you | |
| When I cock the plastic, make 'em drop the casket | |
| When it's hot, I'm blastin, it's the Roc, you bastards | |
| Jigga Man what? Amil-lion yeah | |
| Memph Bleek huh? Sigel Sigel c'mon | |
| Spit acid, c'mon | |
| Witcha bullshit smash hit, get your bullshit smashed in | |
| Niggaz wanna front and get jumped | |
| Bet the ruger give your right side a nice-sized lump | |
| Nigga, we are, the supreme squad | |
| You can dream hard but reality is | |
| we push the dream cars, **** the queen broads | |
| puff the green raw, we as real as it get | |
| We the R-O-C dot A dot Fellas | |
| Bitches don't talk to us, the hoes they e-mail us | |
| Nigga, Jigga Man what? Memph Bleek huh? | |
| Amil-lion yeah, Sigel Sigel rap | |
| [Beanie Sigel] | |
| R (dot) O (dot) C (dot) stop | |
| From tower to mind pop, I move out stop | |
| Shower your mind block, move out with glocks | |
| Raw to the cook, look, move out them blocks | |
| Take it to the bucks who be grindin it up | |
| Usually take it to the dubs so they diamond it up | |
| Competition, linin 'em up | |
| Forty-five ACP, let me squeeze lime 'em up | |
| You want, drama what? Well silence it up | |
| Since a young buck, violent as **** | |
| Wettin me dog, the high will do it; I used to wild off embalmin fluid | |
| I send niggaz to the trauma unit | |
| Forty-five or the nine'll do it | |
| I **** around and have your moms go through it - I'm a beast! | |
| Shit, niggaz always wanna ye shit, then they wanna cease shit | |
| when they mother****in peeps hit | |
| But I don't cease nuttin, I decease som'un | |
| I **** around and have you sleepin underneath som'un | |
| Jigga Man what? Sigel Sigel y'all | |
| Memph Bleek uh, Amil-lion right | |
| [Amil] | |
| Yo, A to the M-I, feminist | |
| Holdin the semi, leave niggaz faced with a dilemmi | |
| Am I, gon' run or stay, can I | |
| get away no you can't can't I surrendi? | |
| And I, lazy bop, Mercedes hot | |
| In my way through the tunnel like Lady Di | |
| [Jay-Z] | |
| Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y'all | |
| Memph Bleek what? Amil-lion uhh |
| zuo qu : A. Whitehead Dwight Grant Harry Ray JayZ Malik Cox Roosevelt Harrell Shawn Carter Walter Morris Willie Albert Goodman | |
| Told y' all... Dynasty... RocAFella Records, you heard me? | |
| Unstoppable, niggaz! Uhh | |
| Memph Bleek.. Amillion.. Sigel Sigel ya heard? | |
| It' s a Dynasty! Who do you believe? | |
| Jigga Man, mo' better, mo' cheddar | |
| Foes knock the man off your Polo sweater | |
| Roll with the ROC, AFella | |
| Remember me? The teachers used to fail us | |
| Now it' s mo' scrilla, hoe killers | |
| Fo' wheelers, we gorillas | |
| Oh please feel us we heat holders | |
| Fightin? Listen boy, Roy Jones couldn' t still us | |
| The plot thickens, the block clickin | |
| We got the game tied up, stop trippin | |
| Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y' all | |
| Memph Bleek what? Amillion, uhh | |
| Cat be him, El Capitan | |
| The fire I spit burn down Happyland | |
| Social Club, we unapproachable thugs | |
| Nonsocial, gone postal | |
| Great aim, harm the arm close to your toast | |
| like a Don' s supposed to, Shawn | |
| I thought I told you, these ain' t just vocals | |
| Don' t make me take it to the old school | |
| I put holes through your hoes too | |
| through your clothes to the foes to the nigga close to you | |
| it Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y' all | |
| Amillion what? Memph Bleek.. | |
| Memphis Bleek | |
| Y' all dudes don' t get it, come widdit | |
| Fifth loaded with slugs that' ll rest in your fitted | |
| It' s M dot EM, the Roc be them | |
| Got the mamis sayin look, who can stop be them? | |
| You wan' press your dumb luck, get blam blamed up | |
| I crush your larynx, you talk ' bout us nigga | |
| No obituary, I get it critical | |
| You know Memph' ll hit the pall bearer liftin you | |
| When I cock the plastic, make ' em drop the casket | |
| When it' s hot, I' m blastin, it' s the Roc, you bastards | |
| Jigga Man what? Amillion yeah | |
| Memph Bleek huh? Sigel Sigel c' mon | |
| Spit acid, c' mon | |
| Witcha bullshit smash hit, get your bullshit smashed in | |
| Niggaz wanna front and get jumped | |
| Bet the ruger give your right side a nicesized lump | |
| Nigga, we are, the supreme squad | |
| You can dream hard but reality is | |
| we push the dream cars, the queen broads | |
| puff the green raw, we as real as it get | |
| We the ROC dot A dot Fellas | |
| Bitches don' t talk to us, the hoes they email us | |
| Nigga, Jigga Man what? Memph Bleek huh? | |
| Amillion yeah, Sigel Sigel rap | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| R dot O dot C dot stop | |
| From tower to mind pop, I move out stop | |
| Shower your mind block, move out with glocks | |
| Raw to the cook, look, move out them blocks | |
| Take it to the bucks who be grindin it up | |
| Usually take it to the dubs so they diamond it up | |
| Competition, linin ' em up | |
| Fortyfive ACP, let me squeeze lime ' em up | |
| You want, drama what? Well silence it up | |
| Since a young buck, violent as | |
| Wettin me dog, the high will do it I used to wild off embalmin fluid | |
| I send niggaz to the trauma unit | |
| Fortyfive or the nine' ll do it | |
| I around and have your moms go through it I' m a beast! | |
| Shit, niggaz always wanna ye shit, then they wanna cease shit | |
| when they mother in peeps hit | |
| But I don' t cease nuttin, I decease som' un | |
| I around and have you sleepin underneath som' un | |
| Jigga Man what? Sigel Sigel y' all | |
| Memph Bleek uh, Amillion right | |
| Amil | |
| Yo, A to the MI, feminist | |
| Holdin the semi, leave niggaz faced with a dilemmi | |
| Am I, gon' run or stay, can I | |
| get away no you can' t can' t I surrendi? | |
| And I, lazy bop, Mercedes hot | |
| In my way through the tunnel like Lady Di | |
| JayZ | |
| Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y' all | |
| Memph Bleek what? Amillion uhh |
| zuò qǔ : A. Whitehead Dwight Grant Harry Ray JayZ Malik Cox Roosevelt Harrell Shawn Carter Walter Morris Willie Albert Goodman | |
| Told y' all... Dynasty... RocAFella Records, you heard me? | |
| Unstoppable, niggaz! Uhh | |
| Memph Bleek.. Amillion.. Sigel Sigel ya heard? | |
| It' s a Dynasty! Who do you believe? | |
| Jigga Man, mo' better, mo' cheddar | |
| Foes knock the man off your Polo sweater | |
| Roll with the ROC, AFella | |
| Remember me? The teachers used to fail us | |
| Now it' s mo' scrilla, hoe killers | |
| Fo' wheelers, we gorillas | |
| Oh please feel us we heat holders | |
| Fightin? Listen boy, Roy Jones couldn' t still us | |
| The plot thickens, the block clickin | |
| We got the game tied up, stop trippin | |
| Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y' all | |
| Memph Bleek what? Amillion, uhh | |
| Cat be him, El Capitan | |
| The fire I spit burn down Happyland | |
| Social Club, we unapproachable thugs | |
| Nonsocial, gone postal | |
| Great aim, harm the arm close to your toast | |
| like a Don' s supposed to, Shawn | |
| I thought I told you, these ain' t just vocals | |
| Don' t make me take it to the old school | |
| I put holes through your hoes too | |
| through your clothes to the foes to the nigga close to you | |
| it Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y' all | |
| Amillion what? Memph Bleek.. | |
| Memphis Bleek | |
| Y' all dudes don' t get it, come widdit | |
| Fifth loaded with slugs that' ll rest in your fitted | |
| It' s M dot EM, the Roc be them | |
| Got the mamis sayin look, who can stop be them? | |
| You wan' press your dumb luck, get blam blamed up | |
| I crush your larynx, you talk ' bout us nigga | |
| No obituary, I get it critical | |
| You know Memph' ll hit the pall bearer liftin you | |
| When I cock the plastic, make ' em drop the casket | |
| When it' s hot, I' m blastin, it' s the Roc, you bastards | |
| Jigga Man what? Amillion yeah | |
| Memph Bleek huh? Sigel Sigel c' mon | |
| Spit acid, c' mon | |
| Witcha bullshit smash hit, get your bullshit smashed in | |
| Niggaz wanna front and get jumped | |
| Bet the ruger give your right side a nicesized lump | |
| Nigga, we are, the supreme squad | |
| You can dream hard but reality is | |
| we push the dream cars, the queen broads | |
| puff the green raw, we as real as it get | |
| We the ROC dot A dot Fellas | |
| Bitches don' t talk to us, the hoes they email us | |
| Nigga, Jigga Man what? Memph Bleek huh? | |
| Amillion yeah, Sigel Sigel rap | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| R dot O dot C dot stop | |
| From tower to mind pop, I move out stop | |
| Shower your mind block, move out with glocks | |
| Raw to the cook, look, move out them blocks | |
| Take it to the bucks who be grindin it up | |
| Usually take it to the dubs so they diamond it up | |
| Competition, linin ' em up | |
| Fortyfive ACP, let me squeeze lime ' em up | |
| You want, drama what? Well silence it up | |
| Since a young buck, violent as | |
| Wettin me dog, the high will do it I used to wild off embalmin fluid | |
| I send niggaz to the trauma unit | |
| Fortyfive or the nine' ll do it | |
| I around and have your moms go through it I' m a beast! | |
| Shit, niggaz always wanna ye shit, then they wanna cease shit | |
| when they mother in peeps hit | |
| But I don' t cease nuttin, I decease som' un | |
| I around and have you sleepin underneath som' un | |
| Jigga Man what? Sigel Sigel y' all | |
| Memph Bleek uh, Amillion right | |
| Amil | |
| Yo, A to the MI, feminist | |
| Holdin the semi, leave niggaz faced with a dilemmi | |
| Am I, gon' run or stay, can I | |
| get away no you can' t can' t I surrendi? | |
| And I, lazy bop, Mercedes hot | |
| In my way through the tunnel like Lady Di | |
| JayZ | |
| Jigga Man huh? Sigel Sigel y' all | |
| Memph Bleek what? Amillion uhh |
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