Change The Game - DJ Clue, Jay-Z, Daz

Uhh, uhh, uhh, let’s go Uhh, bounce, uhh, bounce

Uhh, bounce, uhh.

Shit relax your mind, let your conscience be free

You’re now rollin with them thugs from the R-O-C

Sigel Sigel in the house

Uh-huh, sick bastard

Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer

Uhh, uhh, Memph Bleek in the house

Still here, never left

Still bust, more or less, still puff — beeatch!

Uh, uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH, uhh

Young Hova in the house.

Jigga!

Yeah

Crist’sipper, six dipper, wrist splitter nigga!

.

hold up love

Everytime you see Jigga Man I’m rollin on dubs

Don’t forget about them blades shit choppin it up It’s the motherfuckin Roc bitch, who hotter than us?

Jay-Hov, bout to change my name to Jay Peso

But in the meantime, call me William H. though

On the platinum Yamaha, got the engine gunnin

Throwin it up like liquor on an empty stomach

Y’all don’t hear nuttin?

Who that, Mac?

Nah dawg, that’s M. Bleek comin

Who the FLUCK, want, what?

Catch Bleek in South Beach out of the reach of the police

Gat on my lap (yeah) bitch on my back (holla)

Yak in my pocket, smokin the sticky chocolate (OO-WEE!)

Holla if you want drama with

The Dynasty;

Amil, Bleek, Jigga and.

Sigel

Desert Eagle dawg, who else but me?

Roc ears, Roc-Wears, bandannas and white tees

Me without a gun dawg, unlikely

You know I keep the heat right under the wifebeat'

Three-X-T, I’m Lincoln now, you can’t see the pound

Got a little gut so gat sit tucked (fuck)

I run wild, gun high, L.A. style

Bang the roscoe to the sunrise, plus I stay dumb high

Whether block shit or rock shit

Club shit or drug shit, I pop shit I got shit

Get Sig'any track I'ma spit the talk to it Down South all bounce Crips gon'walk to it Get a ounce, get a woods, everybody spark to it Every dawg, every Blood in the hood, bark to it Get the ounce

, get the woods, everybody spark to it We can smoke in here, put the choke in the air

Don’t change the game for these folks

who plays the game like we supposed

Sigel Sigel in the house

Uh-huh, sick bastard

Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer

Don’t change the game for these folks

who plays the game like we supposed

Memph Bleek in the house

Still here, never left

Still bust, more or less, still puff — beeatch!

Don’t change the game for these folks

who plays the game like we supposed

Young Hova in the house.

Jigga!

Crist’sipper, six dipper, wrist splitter nigga!

I wear more bling to The Source and Soul Train’s

More chains than rings, niggaz won’t do a thing

I bangs the four-four in plain, daylight I’m deranged

Spray right at your brain;

by the way this is Hov'

One shot Dillinger, one shot killin ya It’s only one Roc La Familia

Sigel lock Philly up, Brooklyn is me Matter of fact, the East coast fuck took it from me Fourth album still Jay still spittin that real shit

Volume 3 still sold more records than Will Smith

Can’t call this a comeback, I run rap, the fuck is y’all sayin?

Five million I done that, and I come back, to do it again (uh-huh)

Ex-sinner, Grammy award winner

Ballin repeatedly, highlights on Sportscenter

Please repeat after me — there’s only one rule

I WILL NOT, LOSE!