Jay-Z - Poppin' Tags Lyrics
[intro/chorus: repeat 2x]And we gon stay hustlin on that block until we caughtAnd we gon stay showin off that jewelry that we boughtAnd we gon stay leavin out the stores with heavy bagsCause we poppin tags, pimpin we be poppin tags![verse one: jay-z]We arose, lets goSo fresh so clean like kastJay-z be poppin tagsLeavin the mall with heavy bagsYou know the boy got a love for the cashAw *****, there he go againTalkin bout hoes and dough againYup! -- cant hold it inIm surprised I got so much dough to spendBut, back when I was poorer thenYou wasnt focusin, about the dough I spendBut I was holdin in, I was a roller thenI was a baller back then, all of that manFall back, I fought thatWhat would you do if you was in my shoes?Leave dudes in the rearviewV-12 engine, corners spinninTwinkies shinin, pinky ringArmadale, nigga stinky stinkTop, down, my cash is upGold chain, I dont give a *****Gold brainll get you in the truck maThats right, you in luck maYou see me cruisin down, better step insideAint enough room to fit you all in the rideFirst come, first served basisYou know hov be goin to nice placesThats right, and Im droppin cashLeave the mall with garbage bagsGucci this, prada thatRoll witcha boy youll be poppin tags[chorus][verse two: twista]Its a party when I go up in the stoShoppin while Im zooted off the droRollin like a nigga that just came up on a millAnd I got em sweepin and pickin up tags off the floBag full of clothes I remember havin rocks in the hallOn the glimmer with the glock by the ballServin up a jab and workin security 6 to 6Then its straight from the block to the mallNow whats on the wall? go ahead and treat yoselfWhen you come up on some cheddar better pop that tagLike when I dip off in the prada then I go offTo the lot lay the paper down and cop that jagI got a console full of ammunition and fundsMink roc-a-wear and some gunsPetty in a fresh pair of jumps, blo-packs and bo jaxAnd air maxes, throw back some ones, no max for none(when I go up in the sto a nigga never get enough)Im a baller and if you want it come and get it now(nigga come to a race with a car you wont catch up)And the twista kinda wicked when I spit it nowI be choppin up cheddar with kanyeChop a little cheddar up with jayChop it up with the o-to-the-kizayPoppin big tags with the flow and the dough, we get bi-zay![chorus][verse three: killer mike]Uh-huh, whattup? tell you somethin bout me..My throwback game is whiffle wickedSaint patties day, green pinstripe, number 20 mark spitznJersey ooh-wee with the matchin nu*wear fittedWhite boys say my style is *****inKeepin coke in the kitchenKeep a glock that will shock and bring the restTucked underneath my michelin sI, travellin, handlin with a forty-five cannonIts tucked in my marc buchananExtra clips and shells in the lambskinTwo deep by pelle pelleWestside how they felly fellMore gs on me, than a late 80s gucci leatherWorn by the great rakim himselfStitch my dapper dan oh man with the gun in handI leave your blood squirtingNo offense, Ill put your face on the chestOf a sweatshirt drawn by shirt kingsI been *****ing, a hustle, married to a racketSince the first air jordans and starter jacketsI slept with a package, under mattressI carry guns heavy speakeasy, slight with the fight wordsIll put somethin hot through your mother*****in icebergGot a project chica, named ricaShe keep a purse full of dro reeferSmall, pinkies like thatTalk til the paper fatI rock somethin, roll chief +sacks+ like daddy fat![chorus][verse four: big boi]Pop tires in reverse, youll be needin a nurseLeave you layin on your back in a cadillac hearseNow your momma in all black with a matchin purseI know you wanna blow up, but a funeral hurtsWhats worse, you can hit the mall and ball til you fallHave to make a collect call, but your cell cut offTrot to the mailbox thinkin a check but the mails run shortNo more md, dd, ldThat means movie date, dinner date, lunch date, help me pleaseMy sheets is goneLong bread to the short bread, word is bondMeticulously pimpously serve the songAct a damn donkeyLike the pilgrims when they popped a tag on the indians homeDrop top rag-o with the weed goneChillin, bags in the trunk full of feo schwartz for the chillunsSpent a few shillingsSip a few chickens, lick a few kittens, just kiddinA fresh bowl of milk is in the fridge andCan you pop the tags on the honeycombsOr are you actin mad cause the money doneSlowed, down, just a little bitDipped, poked out, did some shull-bitActin like a pitfall bull-pitDead game is the pul-pitLeave a motherpumper with his john doe toe tag clippedImperial classic, a lyrical thrashinA miracle happeninJay-z, killer mike and big boi rappin and rhymin and smabbinPop that tag on some of this gameHolla-tic, swallow and keep the change[chorus]
