lyrics:
[Verse 1: Jay Z]
You know you made it when the fact
Your marriage made it is worth millions
Lemonade is a popular drink and it still is
Survival of the littest
nikkas who really up versus nikka up in your business
I'm in the room where real nikkas not allowed
I'm the only one in the room that they fear right now
I think they're clear right now
Let's celebrate, no red champagne, we don't play that
All we see is gold bottles and paper plane hats
Twenty one Grammy's that I use for D'usse cups
I'm on the penthouse floor, call your way up
The OG's say, "HOV, how high is high enough?"
I said "'til we eye and eye with the higher ups"
Until we let 'em know, we ain't those nikkas
Until our baby's showered in gold nikka
Blue looking like Pac in the tub
David LaChapelle levels of not giving a fukk
Prince left his masters where they safe and sound
We never gonna let the elevator take him down
[Verse 2: Fat Joe]
This wasn't me this was God's doing
And this time I won't finger roll, Pat Ewing
They ain't wanna see the Squad and the Roc
Now they chasing the Wraith like mister Softy's on the block
Stars on the roof got her feeling like Venus
Getting so much brain, now I'm a Don called a Genius
Ever since Pun been gone been independent
So I went and put Jumpman up in the pendant
I flooded out all the crises
Out in Paris I learned what real ice is
I'm kicking flavor in your ear
I just had a gram on my face and it disappeared
I just dropped the biggest of checks, and the shyt cleared
When everybody counted us out just this year
Uh, I'm Steph Curry in the clutch
Take a shot of this Royal Elite and go all the way up
[Verse 3: Remy Ma]
My swag, my flow, I stole it back
They mad, too bad, my shows is packed
My town, my crown, I really rap
I'm home, my throne, I spoil you [?]
When the bytch was gone, they was really playing with it
I was sitting listening, like, they ain't even saying shyt
Now the real is back, I see they all tryna change and shyt
But it's really too late now, I'm going back yo
One of these bytches, two of these bytches gotta die
Three of these bytches, four of these bytches gonna cry
Five of these bytches popping pills, they high
Six bird bytches, none of them get fly
See, I don't wanna hear about your records and big numbers
Cause I was up top seven winters and six summers, cuffed
All in that bus, locked me all the way down
Now I'm all the way up
