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Do U Wanna Ride (feat. John Legend)

В рубрике: Тексты песен — 24.08.2012

[Intro]

This is the operator with a collect call from "Emory Jones"

To accept the charges, press one now

[Jay-Z]

Uhh, woo!

Emory whattup?

Told you I ain't too good with writin letters and all

Shit I don't even write rhymes

But what I will do

I'ma send you this opus scribed through the airwaves

Vibe with me

[Chorus: John Legend]

I knowwwww.. I knowwwwww

Some places we can go, some places we can go

I knowwwww.. I knowwwwww!

Some places we can go, some places we can go

Do you wanna riiiiiiide... with me

Do you wanna RIIIIIIIDE... with me

[Jay-Z - over Chorus]

Uh-huh, uh-huh

Yeah nigga I bet we was kids and had dreams of bein here

I said "we" cause I'm here, you here!

Uhh

Yeah, ride with me, your spot is reserved family

Cigarette boats, yachts, ain't nowhere we can't go

We in South Beach and the Hamptons too baby!

[Jay-Z]

You know why they call The Projects a project, because it's a project!

An experiment, where in it, only it's objects

And the object for us to explore our prospects

And sidestep cops on the way to the top - yes!

As kids we would daydream, sittin on our steps

Pointin at cars like yeah that's our sex

Hustlers, prophets, made our eyes stretch

So on some Dr. Spock shit, we started our trek

Some of us made it, most of us digressed

In the name of those who ain't made it my progress

Show success please live through me

See I'm the eyes for Emory, keep him alive

(This is a collect call) So everytime I press five

All he wanna hear is his boy talk fly

Up in the fed, and still holdin his head

So when he hits the streets he gon' eat through this bread

Now let's ride

[Chorus]

[Jay-Z - over Chorus]

Uh-huh, geah

I'm crushin 'em all for Jones

MTV, BET, the Grammys, crushed linen, purple label

All that fly shit we talked about

Give him some nice pinky rings with the blue diamonds and e'rything

Hehehe, that's what we talked about right?

Uh-huh... tried to told you, ride with me

[Jay-Z]

International Hov', I told you so

Forty 40's out in Tokyo

Singapore, all this from singin songs

Comin up though we thought slingin raw

was the end all be all of bein rich didn't we

Little did I know my mo' potent delivery

would deliver me, kingpin of the inkpen

Monster of the double entendre, Coke is still my sponsor

Heh, the Cola, yeah

Hova still gettin it in with soda

Diet, no sir, I ain't lose no weight

Started from the crates now I'm sittin on a whole case

Since they got you sittin on that old case

Our dreams is on hold like Tivo

So I can't wait 'til you get your date

I got some temp plates outside of the gate

We gon' ride

[Chorus]

[Jay-Z - over Chorus]

Uh-huh, uh-huh

Geah

Don't even worry about it though, you ain't missed nuttin

It only gets better, they got the Maybach Coupe now

Look like the Batmobile, the Phantom the top just comes off that joint

It only gets better

They caught your body they can't trap your mind

Keep your spirit alive read your books

Matter of fact, let me take you somewhere

Vibe with me, c'mon

[Jay-Z]

Now me and my lil' mama, Kita and Tata

Juan and Dez out in San Tropez

Jay round in Gabana, sneakin marijuana

You know that Mary J. give you +No More Drama+

Lost a couple friends this whole shit got weird

But when you get home you know your spot's reserved, ya heard?

I put my niggaz on, my niggaz put they niggaz on

Now we all somewhere fun, chillin in the sun

I ain't forget you cousin, hehe

Yeah nigga y'all can wear sneakers on the beach if you want to

Y'all niggaz come and c'mon, playin money marathon

My young'n is LeBron, you know what that makes me baby

Big Homey! Hehe, Emory what's up?

[Chorus - starts over last few lines of above]

[Jay - over Chorus]

Wan' ride with us? You're more than welcome

We ain't on no bullshit, uhh

Put your feet up

Big Tye I see you boy

Guru, I don't usually do this but

Roll me up son man

Let me get mellow on this shit right here

Uh-huh, yeah

Uh-huh, white paper though nigga

Can't even fuck with those blunts

White paper baby, old school nigga gimme a joint

Smooth it out, Young H.O.

Henry Jones

Word to my momma we livin!

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