Jay Z – Allure feat. Nas scritto da admin 19 Gennaio 2016 I keep you fresher than the next bitch, no need For you to ever sweat the next bitch, with speed I make the best bitch see the exit, indeed You gotta know ya thoroughly respected, by me You get the keys to the Lexus, with no driver Got ya own ninety-six suh-um, to ride in Keep ya ass tighter than Versace, that’s why You gotta watch ya friends, you got to watch me, the conniving shit The first chance to crack the bank, they’ll try me All they get is fifty-cent franks, and papayas From the village, to the telly Time to kill it, on ya belly No question, had more black chicks between my sheets than Essence They say sex is a weapon, so when I shoot Meet ya death in less than eight seconds Still poundin’ in my after life, laughin’ My shit is tight, who you askin’, right [Chorus] Ain’t no nigga like the one I got No one can fuck you better Sleeps around but he gives me alot Keeps you in diamonds and leathers Friends’ll tell me I should leave you alone (Haha..haha..haha..haha) Tell them freaks to find a man of they own (Man of they own, man of they own) Yeah, yeah Fresh to def in Moschino Coach bag lookin’ half black and Filipino, fakin’ no jacks Got you a beeper to feel important Surrounded ya feet in Joanie Degas and Charles Jordan I keep ya dove, but love You know these hoes be, making me weak Ya’ll know how it goes B, and so I creep I been sinnin’ since you been playin’ with Barbie and Ken, and You can’t change a players game in the ninth inning The chrome rims spinning keeps ‘em grinning So I run way the fuck up in ‘em and wrinkle they face like linen I play hard un-til they say “God, he’s keepin’ it real, Jigga stay hard” Naw, don’t even trip, I never slip Nigga, get a grip, what you don’t see is what you get Weapons concealed, what the fuck ya’ll feel When ya niggas play sick we can all get ill (What the deal?) [Chorus] Right, right, yo Ain’t no stoppin’ this no lie Promise to stay monogamous, I try But love you know these hoes be, makin’ me weak Ya’ll know how it goes B, so I stay deep [Foxy Brown] What up boo Just keep me laced in the illest snakes Bank rolls and shit, back rubs in the french tub Mackin’ this bitch, wifey nigga So when you flip that coke ‘member the days you was dead broke But now you stylin’, I raised you Basically made you, into a don, flippin’ weight, heroin and shit You know the pussy is all that That’s why I get baguettes, five carats and all that From Dolce Gabbana, to H. Vendell I’m ringin’ bells, so who the playa I still keep you in the illest gators Tailor-made, so we can lay up in the shade Reminiscin’ on how I fuck the best and shit ‘Specially when I’m sippin’ Baileys Don’t give a fuck ‘bout how you move with them other mamis I push the Z, eatin’ shrimp scampi With rocks larger than life Fuck them Reebok broads, you made it known who ya wife was I got you frontin’ in Armani sweaters Before this rap shit when you was in leathers and bullshit Berettas And E-class-es with Mo’ in the glasses Shows in Cali with all the flavors suede Bally’s Now all your mens-es up in ya Benz-es High post, I swear you be killing me Playin’ inside my pubic hairs I never worry bout them other chicks Cause you proved who was your wiz When you was spinnin’ that bitch I tripped a little, when you was up north Ya commissary stay pilin’ How you livin’ large on a island All them collects had me vexed, but when you come home Knew I was comin’ off with half of them checks Now we on a rise, your diamond mami with the slanted eyes Holdin’ this brick, copped the ? and shit Fucks no, I see half of the dough (whoa, whoa) Made you into a star, pushin’ hundred thousand dollars cars [Chorus 2x fadin’ out] [Adlibs during the chorus] Uh, what nigga, Foxy Brown, (uh, uh, uh, Jay-Z ya’ll) Jay-Z niggas Copped the ? and shit (That’s right, whoa, whoa) (Jay-Z, what, Fox Brown, Roc-A-Fella ya’ll) (Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)