Come On Baby (feat. Jay Z & Swizz Beatz)

(Put your hands up) (Put your hands up), c'mon, ladies and gentlemen You're now rockin' with the best Just Blaze (Put your hands up), Swizzy (Put your hands up), come on One, two, three, here we go Microphone check one-two, what is this? The Yardfather coming to give niggas the business It's so beyond rap, cocksucker we live this So um, come on baby, come on, come on and witness The next ten years of this shit, the slickness is deliberate Lyrically, it's as sick as it get I been in the pen, been in the jects, been in the inter taps I been in the Benz, been in the Lex, been in the M.S.X Yes, I run ringers around the fraudulent type Come here, and I'll show you that I spit on just more than a mic I make it hard for niggas to breathe, please These wicked emcees squeeze Hammers like the Pampers used to squeeze, hit the D.T I Mike Tyson ya eye, put a permanent ring around it Then go run in the booth and sing about it Look, if I don't hurt the nigga that play with my wealth I'm like me on Entourage god, I'm playing myself, let's go Hold up, the pump will make you jump up, put ya body in the trunk Keep goin' now New York, and all the way to Cali and the South'll make ya jump (c'mon) Don't touch the boy, yup Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up, put ya body in the trunk I'll whip ya ass from New York, and all the way to Cali and the South'll make ya jump One, two, three, we gone You ain't crazy, don't you play me, don't you know it's Jay-Z? When internets ask who's the best, why won't you say me? Don't you hate me? C'mon, baby, wasn't all gravy I took my lumps comin' up just like a boxer, baby My first style, hmm, maybe if I stuttered, maybe But then I slowed it down, brought it from the gutter, baby Matter o' fact, I don't give a fuck where you rate me Record labels told me no, guess what the fuck they made me? Super rich, stupid bitches know I'm super vicious Like, standin' over a wounded man wit' two biscuits Let's get it clear like eucalyptus, if you conflicted My flow is like the Cuban Missile Crisis Nigga, my near misses are crisis I hide a couple rare jewels in a verse For my niggas that like to listen, like this You gotta let it do what it do, baby C'mon! Hold up, the pump will make you jump up, put ya body in the trunk Keep goin' now New York, and all the way to Cali and the South'll make ya jump (c'mon) Don't touch the boy, yup Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up, put ya body in the trunk I'll whip ya ass from New York, and all the way to Cali and the South'll make ya jump One, two, three, we gone Four finger, three finger, two finger, one finger Hum dinger, gun slinger, that's what I am Trying to get some cash in my hand as fast as I can So you should, come on, baby, come on, come on and fuck with ya man I got this rap shit down to a science A lotta niggas shit is a'ight, but they ain't fucking with Ryan First there was some defiance, until I formed an alliance With Justin, he plugged me in, now I'm as hot as a fucking iron You lying, all the gunplay talk Knowing behind closed doors you be practicing on ya runway walk I been in the kill, been in the cap, been in the box and back I been in the ville, tripping the gat, trimming a boxing match And I still walk around this fucker with not a scratch And that's way more than I can say for a lot of cats My name's Saigon, nigga Break bread motherfucker 'fore I break ya fucking head lil' sucka Hold up, the pump will make you jump up, put ya body in the trunk Keep goin' now New York, and all the way to Cali and the South'll make ya jump (c'mon) Don't touch the boy, yup Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up, put ya body in the trunk I'll whip ya ass from New York, and all the way to Cali and the South'll make ya jump One, two, three, we gone