Reservoir Dogs

Album cover art for "Reservoir Dogs" by JAY-Z & The LOX & Beanie Sigel & Sauce Money & Pain In Da Ass

JAY-Z & The LOX & Beanie Sigel & Sauce Money & Pain In Da Ass

Reservoir Dogs

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Lyrics

[Intro: Sheek Louch] Fuck! Shit is real right here Roc-A-Fella, LOX Takin' the streets over, motherfuckers Don't get it twisted [Verse 1: Sheek Louch] Yo, ayo, ayo, ayo 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 a hundred 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 whoresJet-skiin', while you keep warm at corner stores I make it hot , floodin' your block the best way Professionall-ay, 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 Nothin' 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 ThorazineHow we floss and don't give a fuck what it's costin' [Verse 2: Beanie Sigel] Yo, yo, pressure bust pipes, it's time to apply it now Pick out a quiet town and tie it downMake niggas lock it down, y'all know where to buy it now Beanie Mack, 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 building 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 tryna meet the Sergeant at the precinctEatin' cheese sandwiches, down for the weekendLocked 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 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 Gangsters don't die, they get chubby and move to Miami Shit is deep now, dawg, 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 tryna study my last bounceTell 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'ma be the 'Kiss, nigga, until it's bedtime Anythin' I'm on is a classic Any nigga ever had beef with? Son is a bastard Anytime I spit, spit acid L-O-X, Ruff Ryder — you heard? We got the game mastered [Interlude: Pain In Da Ass] I told you the pain was coming 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 dieWhat'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 spray off I lay off wack niggas and kill 'em on my day off Ain't nothin' for me to bust a trey offMurder the whole month of April, nigga, just to take May off Run with more Germans than Adolf, you light crewsNow I concentrate on your camp like Jews Flow hot like a heatwave, bitch Whips phatter than them shits they beat slaves with I'm a mill-stackin' nigga who pull quick Still packin' for you Phil Jackson niggas on that bullshit! [Verse 5: Styles P & ( Jay-Z )] I don't give a FUCK who you are, so FUCK who you areI don't care about a pretty bitch, watch or a carI don't care about your block and whoever you shotI don't care about your album and whenever it dropI don't care about your past, if I did I woulda askedI'm too busy lightin' 'dro with a whole lotta hash Far as this rap shit, I'm ten steps ahead of niggasShootin' 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-FellaScreamin' ( What the fuck? ), spendin' mozzarella [Verse 6: Jay-Z] I know, pop, you can't stand us 'cause we cock them hammersRun in your crib, no prisoners, pop your grandmaLocked in the slammer? Nope, popped up in AtlantaCrossed 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 bang, big chains, ain't shit changed Get brain in the four-dot-six Range Shit, mayne, switch lanes Every town I hit, switch planes Bitch, flip big 'caine Flow with no cut, you take it in vein to the brain Muh'fuckas is noddin' and throwin' up You know that you don't wanna owe that man He'll hit ya, get the picture? Kodak, man Got a love for war, I don't floss no moreI just sit on my money 'til I'm above the law How the fuck you gon' stop us with your measly asses? We don't stop at the tolls, we got E-ZPasses, nigga Multiple cars and divas with D-Classes Iceberg sweats with I.B. on the elastic [Outro] Shit.. BIATCH! What the fuck, ya heard me? Hahahaha Put some more beat on that joint!

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Credits

Writers
  • JAŸ-Z
  • Jadakiss
  • Styles P
  • Sheek Louch
  • Sauce Money
  • Beanie Sigel
  • Erick Sermon
  • Isaac Hayes
Producers
  • Erick Sermon
  • Darold “Pop” Trotter
Mastered At
  • Powers House of Sound
Mixed At
  • Quad Studios
Publisher
  • Carter Boys Music
  • Erick Sermon Enterprises
  • Jaewon’s Publishing
  • Justin Combs Music
  • Lil Lulu Publishing
  • Paniro’s Publishing
  • September Six Music
  • Shakur Al Din Music
  • Sheek Louchion
  • EMI April Music
  • Hitco Music
  • Rondor Music
  • Sony Music Entertainment
  • Universal Music Group
  • Zomba Enterprises, Inc.
Mastering Engineer
  • Herb Powers
  • Tony Gillis