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[ More Jay lyrics ]
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Artist/Band: Jay
Lyrics for Song: Ain't No Nigga
Lyrics for Album: MTV Unplugged [2001]



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)


Album Lyrics: MTV Unplugged [2001]


Jay
"MTV Unplugged [2001]"


1. Girls, Girls, Girls
2. Jigga What Jigga Who
3. Big Pimpin'
4. Can I Get A ...
5. Ain't No Nigga
6. Can't Knock The Hustle
7. Song Cry
8. Jigga That Nigga