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Jay-Z Dead Presidents (Part 1) * Lyrics

Last updated: 01/10/2011 10:00:00 AM

While others spit that Wonderama shit,
Me and my conglomerate shall remain anonymous
Caught up in the finest shit
Live out my dreams until my heart give out
Involving CREAM, you know exactly what this shits about
Fuck y'all mean?
Handlin' since a teen, I dish out
Like the point guard off your favorite team; without doubt
My life ain't rosy, but I roll with it
My mind was fine till the dough hit it
And told me that the Mo' did it
And now it's kosher shit is so Hasidic
I'll blow a digit on a diamond in a minute, but, no bitches
Watch how I'm walkin' cause even the thoroughest niggas be narcin'
Tryin' to strike a bargain, hopin' that they might get pardoned
Shit I'm involved with got me pins and needles
And my cerebral breeds the wickedest evil
Thoughts that this sport will feed you
Peep facts:
In the game so deep,
Fiends can catch a freeze off my knee cap
Can y'all believe that?
Got the city drinkin' Cristal, we upped the fee
Rappers going broke tryin' to keep up with me
My rise to riches surprised the bitches
Think harder;
You know this nigga
Jay-Z, Sean Carter
G.S.-ed the fuck up, tree-es (trees) the fuck up
Watch me shine like a Breitling, Breguets the fuck up
All rhymers forget it like Alzheimers
Small timers, I said it
I'm adressin' all drama
Talk to me

[Chorus (X2)]:
"I'm out for Presidents to represent me (Get money!)..."
"I'm out for Presidents to represent me (Get money!)..."
"I'm out for Presidents to represent me (Get money!)..."
"I'm out for dead fuckin' Presidents to represent me"

So sick of niggas:
"I want money like Cosby"
Who wouldn't?
It's this kind of talk that makes me think
You probably ain't got no puddin'
Niggas got them kinda dreams from jail
You in the streets nigga, make your move, get your get your mill'
Niggas'll coast in the S.L. but can't post bail,
Niggas'll roast the el,
But scared to throw your toast, well
I'm here to tell niggas it ain't all swell
There's Heaven then there's Hell niggas
One day your cruisin' in your seven,
Next day your sweatin', forgettin' your lies,
Alibis ain't matchin' up, bullshit catchin' up
Hit with the RICO, they repoed your vehicle
Everything was all good just a week ago
'Bout to start bitchin' ain't you?
Ready to start snitchin' ain't you?
I forgive your weak ass, hustlin' just ain't you
Aside from the fast cars
Honeys that shake they ass in bars
You know you wouldn't be involved
With the Underworld dealers, carriers of mac-millers
East coast bodiers, West coast cap-peelers
Little monkey niggas turned gorillas
Stopped in the station filled up on octane
And now they not sane, and not playin'
That goes without sayin'
Slangin' day in and day out
When money play in, then they play you out
Tryin' to escape my own mind
Lurkin' the enemy
Representin' infinity
With Presidencies, ya know?

Thanks to glpoolshark@yahoo.com for submitting Dead Presidents (Part 1) * Lyrics.



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Dead presidents | Reviewer: C. Jackson | 4/1/2007

This, the original dead presidents is a classic. the 2nd verse goes incrediblly into depth on the underworld drug dealing scene. just read the lyrics and interpret.

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