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Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
JAY-Z
JAY-Z
Chant
Bashiri Johnson
Bashiri Johnson
Percussion
Ed Goldson
Ed Goldson
Basse
Mario Winans
Mario Winans
Batterie
Arden Altino
Arden Altino
Claviers
Jayms Madison
Jayms Madison
Chant
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Deleno Matthews
Deleno Matthews
Paroles/Composition
Sean Combs
Sean Combs
Paroles/Composition
Shawn Carter
Shawn Carter
Paroles/Composition
Barry White
Barry White
Paroles/Composition
LV
LV
Paroles/Composition
Heather Boyden
Heather Boyden
Assistance d’arrangement
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
LV
LV
Production
Victor Abjaoudi II
Victor Abjaoudi II
Ingénierie de prise de son
Steve Dickey
Steve Dickey
Ingénierie de prise de son
Gimel Keaton
Gimel Keaton
Ingénierie de prise de son
Heather Boyden
Heather Boyden
Assistance d’ingénierie de prise de son
Michelle Figueroa
Michelle Figueroa
Assistance d’ingénierie de prise de son
Ken "Supa Engineer" Duro
Ken "Supa Engineer" Duro
Ingénierie de mixage
Deleno Matthews
Deleno Matthews
Production
Diddy
Diddy
Production
JAY-Z
JAY-Z
Production déléguée
Tony Dawsey
Tony Dawsey
Ingénierie de mastérisation

Paroles

Poor me, dad was gone, finally got my dad back Liver bad, he wouldn't live long, that snatched my dad back Guidance, I never had that, streets was my second home Welcomed me with open arms provided a place to crash at A place to study math at, matter fact I learned it all Burnt it all this music is where I bury the ashes at Flash back not having much, not having that Had to get some challah bread so you can holla back and Holla at my Jewish lawyer to enjoy the fruit of letting my cash stack And just in case a nigga gotta use his rat-tat-tat-tat-tat Own boss, own your masters, slaves The mentality I carry with me to this very day Fuck rich, let's get wealthy, who else gon' feed we? If I need it I'm a get it however God help me And I don't need no hook for this shit I'm so for sure, it's no facade Stay out of trouble, momma said as momma sighed Her fear her youngest son being victim of homocide But I got to get you out of here momma or I'ma die Inside And either way you lose me momma so let loose of me I got the rein, our direction will soon change To live and die in N.Y. in the hustle game Hustle 'caine, hustle clothes, or hustle music But hustle hard in any hustle that you pick Skinny nigga toothpick but, but I do lift Weight like I'm using 'roids Rolls Royce Keep my movements smooth while manuvering Through all the manure in the sewers that I grew up in Choices we make trying to escape this shit And I don't need no hook for this shit This is not for commercial usage Please don't catagorize this is as music Please don't compare me to other rappers Compare me to trappers I'm more Frank Lucas than Ludacris And Luda's my dude I ain't tryna diss Like Frank Lucas is cool but I ain't trying to snitch I'm a follow the rules no matter how much time I'ma get I'ma live and die with the decisions that I'ma pick So fuck DeHaven for caving, that's why we don't speak Made men ain't supposed to make statements End of the story I followed the code cracked the safe Other niggas ain't in the game so they practice hate Leave that boy Hov alone why don't ya You don't have to if you don't want to but don't say I didn't warn ya Oh, and I don't need no hook for this shit
Writer(s): Sean Combs, Shawn Carter, Deleno Matthews, Levar Coppin, Barry Eugene White Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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