Jay-Z – Marcy Me

I started in lobbies, now parley with Saudis
Just the way I’m raised
Yet we know not what we may be"
I ain’t gonna change, no
Oh, can’t walk away, I know, I know
Chicken-heads be cluckin’
Back when ratchet was a ratchet and a vixen was a vixen
Back when Rodman was a Piston
(Como hás nome, cavaleiro?
Mike was losin’ to Isiah, but he soon would get his sixth one
Marcy me
Y’all flirtin’ with death, I be winkin’ through the scope
Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant
Shout out to Nostrand Ave., Flushing Ave., Myrtle
Eu hei nome Todo o Mundo
I’m a Sufi to goofies, I could prolly speak Farsi
Pregnant pause, give you some second thoughts
When Lisa Bonet was Beyoncé of her day, I had divas, y’all
"Lord, we know who we are
Must be in the air
Or better yet here’s a verse from Hamlet
Yeah, that’s where it all started
When Denzel was blottin’ carpet, I’ll pack a… nine millimeter
Just the way I am always gonna be

You couldn’t change me if you wanted to
I’ma take this with me to the Moon

Came through the bushes smellin’ like roses
[Verse 1]
Shout out to Big Poppa, Daddy Kane, heroes
All the County of Kings, may your ground stay fertile
So maybe I’m the one or maybe I’m crazy
I need a trophy just for that
E meu tempo…)
[Verse 2]
Gave birth to my verbal imagination
The livest one representin’ BK to the fullest
Marcy, Marcy me, just the way I am
Streets is my artery, the vein of my existence
When Slick Rick made "Mona Lisa"
Thus concludin’ my concerto
Cookin’ coke in the kitchen
There’s room on the bandwagon, don’t abort
Back when Pam was on Martin
Bastards duckin’ when Hov be buckin’

I ain’t gonna change, no
Oh Marcy, Marcy me
Nah Think I just popped up in this bitch like a fetus?
Couldn’t change me if I wanted to
Old Brooklyn, not this new shit, shit feel like a spoof

Fat laces in your shoe, I’m talkin’ bustin’ off the roof
I ain’t gonna change, no
I know, I know, I know
I’m the Gotham City heartbeat
Assume a virtue if you have not
And Jam Master Jay was alive I was mixin’
I’m from Marcy Houses, where the boys die by the thousand
Shout out to all the murderers turned murals
[Outro: The-Dream]
Marcy me
Plural, fuck the Federal Bureau
Marcy me
That’s poetry, reek of coca leaf in my past
Hold a Uzi vertical, let the thing smoke