Letra de canción descargada de:
https://www.albumcancionyletra.com

------------------------------------------
Jay Z - Politics as usual
------------------------------------------

You know how we do, Roc-a-Fella... forever... You can catch me
skatin through your town puttin it down y´all relatin
No waitin I´ll make your block infrared hot I´m like Satan
Y´all feel a nigga´s struggle, y´all think a nigga love to
hustle behind the wheel, tryin to escape my trouble
kids stop they greetin me, I´m talkin sweet to keys
Cursin the very God, that bought this wreath to be
My life is, based on sacrifices, jewels like ices
and fools that think I slip, you fuck around
you get your guys hit, they built me to be filthy
on some I-do-or-die shit, for real
The price of leather´s got me, deeper than ever and
just think, with this here, I´m tryin to feel made nig-ga

Politics as us-ual... I took my
Frito to Tito in the district, blessed me with some
VS somethins I can live with, stop frontin
And for the dough I raise, gotta get shit appraised
No disrespect to you, make sure you word is true
I´m takin wages down in Vegas just in case Tyson
have a major night off, that´s clean money, the tax write-off
You ain´t seen money in your life, when it
comes to this cheese y´all like Three Blind Mice
A smokin bro, who pump Willie Ike spokes
The furthest you Chiles been is the Pocanos
My portfolio reads: leads to Don Corleone, nigga please
Ten year feleon, heavy on the wrist, our face used
with the diamond blooded Jesus and blind your face
youse for life... sharight, Jigga, I keep it tight nig-ga

Politics as us-ual...
You feel my triumph never, feel my pain I´m lyin
Low in the leather Zion, the best that´s ever came
The game changes like, my mind just ain´t right
We ´gwan get this dough, I guess it ain´t your night
Suckin me in like a vacumn, I remember
tellin my family I´ll be back soon, that was December
Eighty-five and, Jay-Z rise ten years later
got me wise still can´t break my underworld ties
I wear black a lot, in the Ac´, act a lot
Got matchin VCR´s, a huge Magnavox
to nitch, green like spinach pop wines that´s vintage
It´s a lot of big money in my sentence
Hittin towards a mil´, lip a, written I kill like that
chick faked me one-two cat, yeah, I do dat
Ain´t no stoppin the champagne from poppin
the drawers from droppin, the law from watchin, I hate em

Politics as us-ual