Jigga That Nigga Lyrics by Jay-Z

Jigga That Nigga Lyrics

    [*Girl speaking french, then says*]
    Roc-A-Fella y'all

    [Intro - Jay-Z]:
    It's the Roc (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
    Woo!!
    R-O, R-O-C, nigga (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
    HOV!
    R-O-C, niggas (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
    (Trackmasters)
    R-O-C, niggas (Jay-Z)

    [Verse 1]:
    Come on a track like duh-duh-duh-duh
    Wit' a throw-back jersey and a fitted
    Might blow a bag of hersey and adcentives
    I might take sips of army wit' a chi-ick, I'm so sick wit' it
    Lampin' in the Hamptons, the weekends, man
    In Stan Smith Adidas and a Campus
    Or plain guts on a cruise, Hermaine boat shoes
    The Izod bucket on, I'm so old school
    Yellow wristwatch, Gucci flip-flops
    Six top model chicks, who is this hot?
    J-A, ladies help me say it now, Y-Z, mami, why you playin' wit' me?
    Ride wit' me, get high as me
    How it's supposed to be, when you rollin' wit' G's
    HOV! Back up in this bitch like whoa
    Jigga get this whole shit jumpin' like 6-4's

    [Chorus]:
    (Hov) He is I and I am him
    (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
    Slim with the tilted brim on 20-inch rims
    (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
    If y'all got love for me, I got love for y'all
    (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
    And if y'all go to war for me, I'll go to war wit' y'all
    (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)

    [Verse 2]:
    HOV! It's on, breeze through jeans, it's easy, too
    She's respondin', top is C. Bronson
    We in Luon, gettin' our groove on
    Buyin' out the bar on our way to spa
    She never seen a hundred on the wrist before
    Never seen 22's on a six before
    I am KILLIN' 'EM OUT THERE, they needin first aid
    'Cause the boy got more sixes then first grade
    The crib got, killer views and square feet
    You have to film MTV Cribs for a week
    So, sleep if you need to, mami, I will leave you
    Right where you stand, naw, I don't wanna dance (nah, I'm good)
    I just wanna see what's in you Frankie B. pants
    Waist is low enough to let your waist show
    Top like a rock star, I got a fast car
    We can cruise the city, doin' a buck-60

    [Chorus]

    [Verse 3]:
    HE DID IT AGAIN?! Haters no like
    But they gotta fuck wit' it 'cause the flow's so tight
    Gnarly, dude, I puff Bob Marley, dude
    All day like Rastafaris do
    Now I'm stuck to the point, alcoholic mood
    You fuckin' up my high, don't bother me, dude
    Wit' red Rovers, send ya hoes over
    She can do WHATEVER, sip somethin' wit' soda
    She can leave WHENEVER, sip somethin' wit' Hova
    We can play HOWEVER, sleigh, bed or sofa
    And the prognosis, sex is explosive
    Left her wit' wet bed sheets, nigga I'm FOCUSED

    [Chorus]

    [Jay-Z]:
    WHOA!
    R-O-C, R-O-C, niggas
    (T.M.)
    R-O-C, niggas
    (Roc-A-Fella, y'all)

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