"Ain't No Nigga" as written by Dennis Earle Lambert, Brian Potter, August Moon and Tyrone L. Thomas....
[Jay Z]
I keep it fresher than the next bitch
No need..for you to ever sweat the next bitch
... With speed I make the best bitch see the exit..indeed
You gotta know your thoroughly respected by me

You get the keys to the Lexus with no driver
You gotcha own '96 suh in..the ride
And keep your ass tighter than Versace that's why
You gotta watch your friends you got to watch me

They conniving shit
The first chance to crack the bank
They try me, all they get is 50 cent franks
And papayas, from the village to the tele

Time to kill it on your belly no question
I got more black chicks between my sheets than Essence
They say sex is a weapon, so when I shoot
Met your death in less than 8 seconds

Still poundin' in my after life..
Laugin' my shit is tight
You who askin' right...

Ain't no nigga like the one I got
No one can fuck you betta
Sleeps around but he gives me a lot
Keeps you in diamonds and leathers
Friends 'ill tell me I should leave you alone
Hah hah, hah hah, hah hah, hah ha
Tell the freaks to find a man of there own
(man a they own, man a they own)

[Jay Z]
Fresh to def in my skeeno
Coach bag lookin half black and filipino fakin no jacks
Got you a beeper to feel important
Surrounding your feet in Joanie Dega's and Charles Jordan

I keep ya dove but love
You know these ho's be makin' me weak
Why'all knows how it goes 'be and so I creep
I've been sinnin' since you been playin' wit Barbie and Ken in

You can't change a players game in the 9th inning
The chrome rim spinning keeps em grinnin'
So I run way the fuck up in em
And wrinkle the face like linnin'

I play hard-eh till they say God..
He's keepin' it real jigga stay hard
Lawd don't even trip
I never slip, nigga what you don't see is whatcha get

Weapons concealed what the fuck why'all feel
When you nigga play sick we can all get ill
What's the deal-


[Jay Z]
Yo, ain't no stoppin this, no lie
Promise to stay monogamous, I try
But love you know these ho's be makin me weak
Why'all knows how is goes 'be so I stay deep

[Foxxy Brown]
What up boo just keep me laced in the illa snakes
Bank rolls and shit, back rubs in the french tubs
Makin' this bitch, wifee nigga
So when you flip that coke

Remember them days you was dead broke
But now your style and I raised you
Basically made you into a don
Flippin' weight..heroin and shit

You know my pussy is all that
That's why I get bagets 5 carats and all that
From doshay?????from H I'm ringing bells
So who the playa, I still keep you in the illest gators

Tailor made so we can lay up in the shade reminiscin
On how I fuck the best a shit
Specially when I'm flippin Baileys
Don't give a fuck about how you move with them other mamis

I push disease, eatin shrimp diamond rocks larger than life
Fuck them Reebok broads, you made it known who your wife was
I got you frontin in Armani sweaters
Before this rap shit

When you was in letters and bullshit berattas
And eek classes with mo in the glasses
Shows in Cali wit all the flavor suede Bally's
Now all your mens' up in your benz's

High post, I swear you be killin' me
Playin' inside my pubic hairs
I never worry bout them other chicks
'Cause you proved who was your wiz

When you was spinnin that bitch
I took a little when you was up north
Your comisary stay pilin
How you livin large on the island

All them collects have me vex
But when you come home
Knew I was comin off wit half of dem checks
Now we on the rise

Your diamond mami wit the slanted eyes
Holdin this grip cocked the green and the shit
Folks know I see half the dough
Make you wonder a star
Pushin hundred thousand dollar cars


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Ain't No Nigga" as written by Brian Potter August Moon

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, HARLEM MUSIC

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