[Intro - Missy Elliott] {*w/ echoes*} Hey yo Hov.. tell em Hip-Hop better wake up
[Jay-Z] Yeah! Turn the muh'fucking music up! Breezy! Yeah! Turn the muh'fucking music up!
[Verse 1 - Missy Elliott] Motherfuckers better wake up Stop selling crack to the blacks Hope ya brought a spare for ya flat Cain has sent me talking real facts Down the hill like Jill and Jack Got speak what yo weak mind lacks Ya heard that? I'm creative to the fullest "Whachu talking bout Willis?" Cause you talk it never kill it I hear but don't feel it Thou ain't realest, ya just sweet meat in the village Yeah I'm a Don Diva Don Niva Y'all not seen her, heater squeezed into a wife beater Yep I'm a top leader, I got the Martin Luther King fever I'm a feed ya whacha teacha' need to preach ya It's time to get serious, black people all areas Who gon carry us? It ain't time to bury us Cause music be our first love, say 'I Do' let's cherish it
[Chorus - Missy Elliott] If you don't got a gun (it's all right) It you makin legal money (it's all right) If you got to keep your clothes on (it's all right) You ain't got a cellular phone (it's all right) And your wheels don't spin (it's all right) And you gotta wear them jeans again (it's all right) Yeah, if you tried oh well (it's all right) Emcees stop the beef, let's sell (it's all right)
[Verse 2 - Missy Elliott] Hip-Hop better wake up, the bed to make ups Some of y'all be faker than A drag IN make up Got issues to take up, before we break up Like Electra let go, Missy need a baker I love Jacob, but jewelry won't fix my place up Gotta stay up, studio nights to cake up Now check my flavor, rich folks is now my neighbors I got cable, now check out how I made my paper Hip-Hop don't stop, be my Lifesaver Like Kobe and Shaq if they left Lakers I'm like an elevator DJ on the crossfader Black people wake up I'll see your ass later
[Chorus]
[Verse 3 - Jay-Z] + (Missy) I need rims that don't listen and a booming system First piece of change I see, I'm gon get one 7:45 - no lights to drive I ain't even got a home, I guess I'll live in my ride Fuck it!... ("rewind" - *echoes*) "I can hear myself, but I can't feel myself I'm wanna feel myself like Tweet" 7:45 - no lights to drive I ain't even got a home, I guess I'll live in my ride Fuck it, couple karats in the ear won't hurt Need a nice chain, laying on this thousand dollar shirt Ivizu Jeans cover the rectum, my kick game just like David Beckham Anybody in my way, I wet them I'ma be this way till the cops come catch 'em Till detectives sketch em On the sidewalk wit chalk, New York's infections Till I got taught a lesson Couple niggas gone, couple went Corrections, Hillary got ten Till I got fifteen, nigga even my kin Got five years bringin nineteen in But just think I used to think like them Now they gotta live through the pictures that I send them in the pen Hope you don't start ya life where I end... WAKE UP!
[*"Wake Up" - repeated to chorus*]
[Chorus]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
