Music Video

06 Jay Z Brooklyns Finest Feat The Notorious BIG
Watch {trackName} music video by {artistName}

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
JAY-Z
JAY-Z
Vocals
The Notorious B.I.G.
The Notorious B.I.G.
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
JAY-Z
JAY-Z
Composer
Andrew Noland
Andrew Noland
Songwriter
Christopher Wallace
Christopher Wallace
Songwriter
DJ Clark Kent
DJ Clark Kent
Composer
Greg Webster
Greg Webster
Songwriter
Le Roy Roosevelt Bonner
Le Roy Roosevelt Bonner
Songwriter
Marshall Jones
Marshall Jones
Songwriter
Marvin Pierce
Marvin Pierce
Songwriter
Norman Napier
Norman Napier
Songwriter
Ralph Middlebrooks
Ralph Middlebrooks
Songwriter
Rodolfo Antonio Franklin
Rodolfo Antonio Franklin
Songwriter
Shawn Carter
Shawn Carter
Songwriter
Walter Morrison
Walter Morrison
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Clark Kent
Clark Kent
Producer
Dame Dash
Dame Dash
Co-Producer
Joe Quinde
Joe Quinde
Recording Engineer
Kenny Ortiz
Kenny Ortiz
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Okay, I'm reloaded You motherfuckers think you big time? Fuckin' with Jay-Z, you gon' die, big time Here come "The Pain" Jigga (Jigga) Bigga (Bigga) Nigga, how you figure? (How you figure?) Yeah, yeah, yeah Ayo, peep the style and the way the cops sweat us (uh-huh) The number one question is can the Feds get us? (Uh-huh) I got vendettas in dice games against ass bettors (uh-huh) And niggas who pump wheels and drive Jettas Take that wit' ya! Hit ya! Back-split ya! (Uh) Fuck fist fights and lame scuffles (uh!) Pillow case to your face, make the shell muffle (woo!) Shoot your daughter in the calf muscle (mm-hmm) Fuck a tussle, nickel-plated Sprinkle coke on the floor, make it drug-related (ha-ha) Most hated Can't fade it (uh) While y'all pump, willie (what?), I run up and stunt silly (uh-huh) Scared, so you sent your little mans to come kill me (uh) But on the con-trilli, I packs the MAC-milli Squeezed off on him, left them paramedics breathin' soft on him "What's ya name?" Who shot ya? Mob ties like Sinatra (uh) Peruvians tried to do me in (word), I ain't paid them yet Tryna push 700's, they ain't made them yet Rolex and bracelets is frostbit (frostbit), rings too Niggas 'round the way call me Igloo, stick who!? Motherfucker! JAY-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga, shit ya drawers! (Where you from?) Brooklyn, goin' out for all! (Marcy) that's right, you don't stop! (Bed-Stuy) uh-huh, you won't stop! (Nigga!) What, what, what? JAY-Z, Big Smalls, nigga, shit your drawers Brooklyn represent y'all, hit, you fold You crazy, think your little bit of rhymes can play me? I'm from Marcy, I'm varsity, chump, you're JV Jigga JAY-Z Biggie, baby (uh) My Bed-Stuy flow's malicious, delicious Fuck three wishes, made my road to riches From 62's, Gemstars, my mom's dishes (uh) Gram choppin', police van dockin' D's at my doors knockin' (what?) Keep rockin', yeah! No more Mr. Nice Guy, I twist ya shit The fuck back with the pistols blazin'! Hot like Cajun (uh) Hotter than even holdin' work at the Days Inn With New York plates outside Get up out of there, fuck your ride! Keep your hands high, shit gets steeper (uh) Here comes the Grim Reaper, Frank White Need the keys to your InnKeeper (that's right) Chill, homie, the bitch in the Shoney's told me You're holdin' more drugs than a pharmacy You ain't harmin' me, so pardon me Pass the safe, before I blaze the place And here's six shots just in case (Brooklyn-lyn-lyn) JAY-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga, shit ya drawers! (Where you from?) Brooklyn goin' out to all! (Crown Heights, uh) you don't stop! (Brownsville) you won't stop! (Nigga!) (Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, haha) JAY-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga, shit ya drawers! (Where we from?) Brooklyn goin' out to all (Bushwick) you don't stop! (Fort Greene) you won't stop! (Niggas) Yeah, yeah, yeah For '96, the only MC with a flu Yeah, I rhyme sick, I be what you're tryin' to do Made a fortune off Peru, extradite, China White, heroin Nigga, please, like short sleeves, I bear arms (um) Stay out my way from here on (clear?) Gone! (Uh) Me and Gutta had two spots The two-for-five dollar hits, the blue tops (uh-huh) Gotta go, Coolio mean it's gettin' too hot If Faith have twins, she'd probably have two Pacs (uh) Get it? 2 Pac's? (Uh, uh, uh) Time to separate the pros from the cons (And the.) the platinum from the bronze That butter-soft shit from that leather on the Fonz (uh) A S1 diamond from a I class don A Chandon sipper from a Rosé nigga, huh? Brook-Nam, sippin' on Cristal forever, play the crib when it's mink weather (uh) The M.A.F.I.A. keep cannons in they Marc Buchanan's (uh) Usually cuatro cinco, the shell sink slow Tossin' ya, mad slugs through your Nautica I'm warnin' ya! (Ha, what the fuck?) JAY-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga, shit ya drawers! (Where you from?) Brooklyn goin' out to all! (Flatbush) you don't stop! (Red Hook) that's right, you won't stop! (Nigga!) Hahaha! (Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn) JAY-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit your drawers! (Where you from?) Brooklyn goin' out to all! (East New York) you don't stop! (Clinton Hill, uh-huh) you won't stop! (Nigga!) (Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn) Is Brooklyn in the house? Uh, Roc-A-Fella, y'all Junior M.A.F.I.A. Supermen clique Brooklyn's Finest, you rewind this Representin' BK to the fullest
Writer(s): Ralph Middlebrooks, Marshall Jones, Shawn Carter, Andrew Noland, Christopher Wallace, Norman Napier, Greg Webster, Walter Morrison, Rodolfo Franklin, Marvin Pierce, Leroy Bonner Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out