4 da Fam (Bonus Track)Amil

[Intro: Memphis Bleek]
Yeah yeah (uh uh)
Memph Man, my nigga Ty Fyffe
This ones for the family (what's up?)
Understand me, yeah (uh-huh)
We gon' do it right
For all these bitch ass niggas talkin' gangsta (R-O-C)
We dem killers, real, and in studio
Check it out, yo

[Verse 1: Memphis Bleek]
Ayo, this time it's for my family, we ride or die
It's in the blood 'til the death, now aim for the sky
My four blow fo' sure, for dough, for only
It's money, drugs, and hot slugs
You know Bleek squeeze hammers 'til they nail me
Fuck could niggas tell me
Street scholar, keep firing is what they tell me
Drug chemist, thug nigga be named Memphis
Straight from the borough of them B.K. niggas
Where we rob for the fun of it, hustle for the drug of it
Wrap money in rubber bands, just for the love of it
Straight from my ghetto, we listen to heavy metal like
Desert Eagles, street sweepers, loud metal
It's hit and run now, motherfuck anyone of you
We them niggas be in ya crib just like furniture
Pop up with the gun on ya
Release one for zero-zero M (yeah)
Bleek-R-O-C (yeah yeah) dot com (yeah)

[Verse 2: Beanie Sigel]
Yeah, this Philly cat back at it
Still throwin' crack at it
Still fuckin' with them crack addicts
Still bust 'em with them black 'matics
It ain't the bucks, it's the rush
You tryin' to get my ass at it
They say I think ass backwards
Fuck how I act, as long as I stack, it's all mathematics
Our tracks nice, hug the block to track dice
Late night, club night, Mack attract dykes (woo!)
I pull up, Cadillac truck nice
Two guns, you know Mack pack Gat twice
Gets that crack back with that ice
No joke with the coke, I whips that right
No doubt, never a drought, gets that price (uh)
It gets that nice, when you live that life
Papi knows yours name and you ditched that wife, nigga
Gets that green, nigga, gets that chain, nigga

[Verse 3: Amil]
I get forty G's a feature now
Hold Franklins like a Aretha now
In the SL two seater now
And I'm in nothin' but diamonds
I'm the illest female that you heard thus far
Five-five with the thirty-four B-cup bra
I don't fuck with them cats who ain't up to par
I get niggas for cash, clothes, jewelries, plus cars
I'm talkin' rent money, I'm talkin' bank money
I'm talkin' Martha Keats step off with the rent money
Movin' on up, two in the sauna
Still ride through the block, pull up on the corner
Plus, give me an inch so I can take a mile
I bring life like a new born naked child
Bitches tryin' to come up, gotta wait a while
As of now, Amil-lion just faded ya style
(Uh huh, you dealin' with), nigga

[Verse 4: Jay-Z]
The, the Roc, the the, the Roc
(Let me talk to y'all niggas real quick man)
The, the Roc, uh uh, the Roc
Yo, y'all niggas truly ain't ready for this Dynasty thing
Y'all thinkin' Blake Carrington, I'm thinkin' more like Ming
I got four nephews, and they all writin'
They all young and wild, plus they all like things
And I'm havin' a child, which is more frightenin'
What y'all about to witness is big business kid
Big bosses, cocky, and big Benzsesses
Come through flossin' 'em, shiny rims it is
And losses don't pop up in their sentences
I don't think you understand what type of event this is
I don't think you know how focused young Memphis is
Or how Sigel's so real, when you add on Amil
This is much more than rap, it's black entrepreneurs
Clothing, movie, and films, we come to conquer it all
Rocawear, eighty mill like, eighteen months
You can bullshit with rap if you want, muh'fuckers
When it's all said and done, we gon' see what's what
Holla at Hov', I'll be in the cut (what, huh)

[Outro: Jay-Z]
The, the Roc, the the, the Roc
The, the Roc, the uh, the Roc (you rollin' with)
The Roc, Dynasty niggas (woo!)
Uh-huh, get'cha mind right, c'mon
Roc-A-Fella Records, 2000 nigga
Get'cha mind right, holla