“Takeover” Lyrics

R.O.C., we runnin’ this rap shit
Memphis Bleek, we runnin’ this rap shit
B. Mac, we runnin’ this rap shit
Freeway, we run this rap shit
O & Sparks, we runnin’ this rap shit
Chris & Neef, we runnin’ this rap shit

The takeover, the break’s over, nigga
God MC—me—Jay-Hova
Hey lil soldier, you ain’t ready for war
R.O.C. too strong for y’all
It’s like bringing a knife to a gunfight, pen to a test
Your chest in the line of fire with your thin-ass vest
You bringing them boys to men, how them boys gonna win?
This is grown man B.I., get you rolled into triage, bitch
Your reach ain’t long enough, dunny
Your peeps ain’t strong enough, fucker
Roc-A-Fella is the army, better yet the navy
Niggas’ll kidnap your babies, spit at your lady
We bring knife to fistfight, kill your drama
We kill you motherfucking ants with a sledgehammer
Don’t let me do it to you dunny ’cause I overdo it
So you won’t confuse it with just rap music

R.O.C., we runnin’ this rap shit
M Easy, we runnin’ this rap shit
The Broad Street Bully, we runnin’ this rap shit
Get zipped up in plastic; when it happens, that’s it
Freeway, we runnin’ this rap shit
O & Sparks, we runnin’ this rap shit
Chris & Neef, we runnin’ this rap shit
(“Watch out! We run New York”)

I don’t care if you Mobb Deep, I hold triggers to crews
You little fuck, I got money stacks bigger than you
When I was pushing weight back in ’88
You was a ballerina, I got the pictures, I seen ya
Then you dropped “Shook Ones,” switched your demeanor
Well, we don’t believe you, you need more people
Roc-A-Fella students of the game, we passed the class
‘Cause nobody can read you dudes like we do
Don’t let ’em gas you like, “Jigga is ass and won’t clap you”
Trust me on this one, I’ll detach you
Mind from spirit, body from soul
They’ll have to hold a mass, put your body in a hole
No, you’re not on my level, get your brakes tweaked
I sold what your whole album sold in my first week
You guys don’t want it with Hov
Ask Nas, he don’t want it with Hov, no!

R.O.C., we runnin’ this rap shit
B. Sigel, we running this rap shit
M Easy, we runnin’ this rap shit
Get zipped up in plastic; when it happens, that’s it
O & Sparks, we runnin’ this rap shit
Freeway, we runnin’ this rap shit
Chris & Neef, we runnin’ this rap shit
(“Watch out! We run New York”)

I know you miss it, Nas, the (Fame)
But along with celebrity comes ’bout 70 shots to your frame
Nigga, you a (Lame!)
You’s the fag model for Karl Kani, Esco ads
Went from Nasty Nas to Esco’s trash
Had a spark when you started, but now, you’re just garbage (Bitch!)
Fell from top 10 to not mentioned at all
To your bodyguard’s “Oochie Wally” verse better than yours
(Oochie wally wally, oochie wally wally)
Matter of fact, you had the worst flow on the whole fucking song
But I know: the sun don’t shine, then son don’t shine
That’s why your (Lame!) career’s come to an end
It’s only so long fake thugs can pretend
Nigga, you ain’t live it, you witnessed it from your folks’ pad (Yup)
You scribbled it in your notepad and created your life
I showed you your first TEC on tour with Large Professor (Me! That’s who!)
Then I heard your album about your TEC on the dresser
So yeah, I sampled your voice, you was using it wrong
(I’m out for dead fucking presidents to represent me)
You made it a hot line, I made it a hot song (Woo!)
And you ain’t get a coin, nigga, you was getting fucked then
I know who I paid, God–Serchlite Publishing
Use your (Brain!)
You’ve been in this 10, I’ve been in it five; smarten up, Nas!
Four albums in 10 years, nigga? I could divide
That’s one every… let’s say two, two of them shits was due
One was “nah…,” the other was Illmatic
That’s a one-hot-album-every-10-year average
And that’s so (Lame)
Nigga, switch up your flow, your shit is garbage
What, you trying to kick knowledge? (Fuck outta here)
You niggas gonna learn to respect the king
Don’t be the next contestant on that Summer Jam screen
Because you-know-who (Who) did you-know-what (What?)
With you-know-who (Yeah)
But let’s keep that between me and you

R.O.C., we runnin’ this rap shit
M Easy, we runnin’ this rap shit
The Broad Street Bully, we runnin’ this rap shit
Get zipped up in plastic; when it happens, that’s it
Freeway, we runnin’ this rap shit
O & Sparks, we runnin’ this rap shit
Chris & Neef, we runnin’ this rap shit
(“Watch out! We run New York”)

A wise man told me, “Don’t argue with fools”
‘Cause people from a distance can’t tell who is who
So stop with that childish shit, nigga, I’m grown
Please leave it alone, don’t throw rocks at the throne
Do not bark up that tree, that tree will fall on you
I don’t know why your advisers ain’t forewarn you
“Please, not Jay, he’s not for play”
I don’t slack a minute, all that thug rappin’ and gimmicks
I will end it, all that yappin’ be finished
You are not deep, you made your bed, now sleep
Don’t make me expose you to them folks that don’t know you
Nigga, I know you well, all the stolen jewels
Twinkletoes, you’re breakin’ my heart
You can’t fuck with me; go play somewhere, I’m busy
And all you other cats throwin’ shots at Jigga
You only get half a bar–fuck y’all niggas!