Jay-Z - Reservoir Dogs [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Wykonawca: Jay-Z
Album: Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life
Gatunek: Rap
Producent: Erick Sermon
Tekst: Jadakiss, Jay-Z, Styles P, Sheek Louch, Beanie Sigel, I. Hayes, T. Gather, S. Jacob, D-Styles, J. Phillips, E. Sermon

Tekst piosenki

[Verse 1: Sheek Louch]
Fuck -- shit is real right here
Roc-a-Fella, LOX, takin the streets over motherfuckers
Don't get it twisted
Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo
Yo shut the fuck up 'fore I blast and Banned From TV your ass
With no mask, look at the camera like what?
Yeah I did it, like them sick white boys the court committed
To the death of me, I spaz like I'm on Ecstasy
Drop 100 bars for real like I'm lookin for a deal
If I ain't hungry, who the fuck is, I'm worse than them African kids
I ain't straight til my numbers match the Motorola bids
And walk the streets up in NY like I don't fuckin care
If I ain't strapped that means I took em off my Nike Airs
Get off mine, y'all talk shit like little children
But wanna ride mine like bitches when I walk up in the building
Cause I catch tans in the winter, with wild whores
Jet-skiin, while you keep warm at corner stores
I make it hot, floodin your block, the best way
Professionally, they'll find poison in your X-Ray
As I get roasted lookin at Biggie posted on my wall
Takin shots of Louie til I fall
Nuttin to lose, just load the clip up in the groove
And kick rhymes to the poster, til I swear Big moved
My team, you would think was on Thorazine
How we floss and don't give a fuck what it's cost-ing

[Verse 2: Beanie Sigel]
Yo, yo, pressure bust pipes, it's time to apply it now
Pick out a quiet town and tie it down
Make niggas lock it down, y'all know where to buy it now
Beanie Mac I supply it now
My squad roll deep, in foreign cars with two seats
Couple of 5's, a 6, a few Jeeps
Bag enough coke to last a few weeks
In case niggas wanna test, vest and a few heats
You really wanna test my name? And test my game?
Until you have me, test my aim?
Y'all niggas nuts, like testicles
Hit you up in your apartment buildin vestibule
Perhaps it's best for you, to keep on walkin
Heat from the Larkin, keep on sparkin
Platinum prezzie, Bezzie, stay sparklin
Cop off the lot never see me at the auction
Pint of Bacardi darken, when it's hawkin
Out on the strip, until I reach the margin
Not tryin to meet the Sergeant, at the precinct
Eatin cheese sandwiches, down for the weekend
Locked up with dirty white boys and Ricans

[Verse 3: Jadakiss]
Now if I kill you I probably do ten in the box
Come down on appeal then I'm killin your pops
You feelin The LOX, nigga why you grillin The LOX
If this rap shit don't work niggas still in the spot
You bring it to me, I gotta lose your family
Gangstas don't die, they get chubby, and move to Miami
Shit is deep now dog but it gets deeper
Fuck it, the weather's nice and the price is much cheaper
I put it on tape, you gon' buy it, I put it in a bag
You gon' try it, y'all niggas can't deny it
Lot of cats still tryin to study my last bounce
Tell you what, get a beat tape and a half ounce
They got me where I can't be without my large gat
Teflon long sleeve, and my hardhat
Don't matter if I'm openin up, or headline
Doin the speed limit or pushin red lines
Six months in the county or fed time
I'mma be the 'Kiss nigga, until it's bedtime
Anything I'm on is a classic, any nigga
Ever had beef with, son is a bastard
Anytime I spit, spit acid, L.O.X
Ruffryder you heard? We got the game mastered

I told you the pain was comin
You wouldn't listen
You tried to play me like a joke?
Now who got the last laugh?
Now take these bullets with you to hell

[Verse 4: Sauce Money]
You motherfuckers is sick, don't think Sauce the shit
So many niggas on my nuts I thought I lost my dick
Picture me fallin off, I'm camera shy
Hammers fly, might miss you, but your man'll die
What's the difference? Either way I'm sonnin' your crew
I fuck to win, y'all niggas comin to lose
Somethin to prove? Spit it, we can have a sprayoff
I lay off wack niggas and kill em on my day off
Ain't nuttin for me to bust a trey off
Murder the whole month of April nigga, just to take May off
Run with more Germans than Adolf, you light crews
Now I concentrate on your camp, like Jews
Flow hot like a heatwave bitch
Whips fatter than them shits they beat slaves with
I'm a mil stackin nigga who pull quick, still packin
For you Phil Jackson niggas on that Bull shit

[Verse 5: Styles P]
I don't give a FUCK who you are, so FUCK who you are
I don't care about a pretty bitch, watch or a car
I don't care about your block and whoever you shot
I don't care about your album and whenever it drop
I don't care about your past if I did I woulda asked
I'm too busy lightin 'dro with a whole lotta hash
Far as this rap shit, I'm ten steps ahead of niggas
Shootin backwards, just for practice
Ride or die nigga, hoppin in your casket
Bout to go to hell with you, blow the L with you
Tell the whole world I'm spittin let em know the shells hit you
I tell niggas quick, suck dick and get a Glock
My name ring bells like Sunday at twelve o'clock
I'm half past seven, bust six then eleven
You know me, slide my man my joint say reload me
I Ruff Ryde and pop a fella for Roc-a-Fella screamin
Jay (what the fuck) spendin mozzarella

[Verse 6: Jay-Z]
I know pop you can't stand us cause we cock them hammers
Run in your crib, no prisoners, pop your grandma
Locked in the slammer? Nope, popped up in Atlanta
Crossed up in a drop I popped up the antenna
Whoa.. watch your manners when my veins pop like Scanners
Like raindrops you hear the thunder when I cock the cannon
Big thang, big chains, ain't shit changed
Get brained in the four dot six Range
Shit main, switch lanes
Every town I hit, switch planes, bitch flipped big caine
Flow with no cut, you take it in vain/vein to the brain
Muh'fukas is noddin and throwin up, you know that
You don't wanna owe that man
He'll hit you, get the picture? Kodak man
Gotta, love for war, I don't floss no more
I just sit on my money til I'm above the law
How the fuck you gonna stop us with your measly asses
We don't stop at the tolls we got EZ passes, nigga
Multiple cars and divas with D-classes
Iceberg sweats with I.B. on the elastic
Shit, beyotch! What the fuck, ya heard me?
Put some more beat on that joint

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