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Jay-Z Brooklyn's Finest Here are the song lyrics for Brooklyn's Finest by Jay-Z. For more excellent Jay-Z lyrics, run a search! [Jay Z] Yeah yeah yeah Ay Yo peep the style and the way the cops sweat us The number one question is can the Feds get us I got vendettas in dice games against ass betters And niggas who pump wheels and drive Jettas take that with ya [Notorious B.I.G.] Hit ya back split ya fuck fist fights and layin 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 ya'll pump willy, I run up and stunt 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, let the paramedics breath all 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 put 700's, they ain't made them yet Rolex and bracelets is frostbit Rings too, niggas round the way call me Igloo, Stick who? Chorus: Jay-Z What, what, what, Jay-Z, Big Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers Brooklyn represent ya'll hit, ya fall Ya crazy, think a little-bit of rhymes can play me I'm from Marcy, I'm varsity, chump, your JV (Jigga) Jay-Z [Notorious B.I.G.] Nigga baby, My Bed-Stuy flow's malicious Delicious, Fuck three wishes, made my road to riches From 62 gem stars, my moms dishes Gram choppin, police van dockin, D's at me doors knockin [Jay-Z] Keep rockin, No more Mista Nice Guy I twist ya shit the fuck back with the pistols Blazin, hot like cajun, hotter than leaving holding work at the Days Inn With New York plates outside, get up outta there, fuck the ride [Notorious B.I.G.] Keep ya hands high, shit gets steeper Here comes the Grim Reaper Frank Wright need the keys to your Integra (That's right) Chill homie, the bitch in the Shownies told me Your holding more drugs than a pharmacy You ain't harmin me, so pardon me Pass the safe before I blaze the place and hit six shots just in case Chorus [Jay-Z] Yeah, yeah, yeah, for nine six, the only MC with a flu Yeah I rhyme sick, I be what your tryin to do Made a fortune off Peru, extradite, china white heron Nigga please, like short sleeves I bear arms Stay out the way from heron (Clear) gone [Notoriuos B.I.G.] Nea Gutter had two spots The two for five dollar hits, the blue tops Gotta go, Coolio mean it's gettin Too Hot If Faith had twins, she'd probably have two Pac's Get it, Tupac's [Jay-Z] Time to separate the pros from the cons The platinum from the bronz And butter soft shit from the leather on the Fonz The S1 diamond from my eye class don A Chan Don sipper from a Rosay nigga, huh Brook Na, sippin on [Notorious B.I.G.] Cristal forever, play the crib when it's mink weather The M.A.F.I.A. keep canons in they Marc Buchanans Usually cuatro cinco, the shell sink slow, tossin ya Mad slugs through your Nautica, I'm warnin ya Chorus
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