Dead Presidents II Songtext
von JAY‐Z

I'm out for presidents to represent me
I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents to represent me


Who wanna bet us that we don't touch lettuce
Stack cheddars forever
Live treacherous, all the et ceteras
To the death of us: me and my confidants, we shine
You feel the ambiance, y'all niggas just rhyme
By the ounce, dough accumulates like snow
We don't just shine, we illuminate the whole show, you feel me?
Factions from the other side would love to kill me
Spill 3 quarts of my blood into the street
Let alone the heat
Fuck em, they hate a nigga loving this life
In all possible ways, just know the Feds is buggin my life
Hospital dazed, reflecting when my man laid up
On the uptown high block he got his side sprayed up
I saw his life slipping, this is a minor setback
Yo, still in all we living, just dream about the get-back
That made him smile, though his eyes said "pray for me"
I'll do you one better and slay these niggas faithfully
Murder is a tough thing to digest, it's a slow process
And I ain't got nothing but time
I had near brushes, not to mention
Three shots close range, never touched me: divine intervention
Can't stop I, from drinking Mai-Tai's, with Ty-Ty
Down in Nevada, ha ha, Poppa, word life
I dabbled in crazy weight
Without rap, I was crazy straight
Partna, I'm still spending money from '88

I'll make you and your whack mans
Fold like bad hands
Roll like Monopoly: advance
You're copping me like white crystal
I gross the most at the end of the fiscal year than these niggas can wish to
The dead presidential candidate
With the sprinkles and the Presidential, ice that'll offend you
In due time when crime flees my mind
All sneak thieves and player haters can shine
But until then I keep the trilliant cut diamonds shining brilliant
I'll tell you half the story, the rest you fill it in
Long as the villain win
I spend Japan yen, attend major events
Catch me in the joints, convinced my iguanas is biting
J-A-Y hyphen, controlling, manipulating
I got a good life man, pounds and pence
Nuff dollars make sense, while you ride the bench
Catch me swinging for the fence
Dead Presidents, ya know?


So be it, the Soviet, the Unified steady flow
You already know: you light, I'm heavy, roll heavy dough
Mic-macheted your flow
Your paper falls slow like confetti
Mines a steady grow, perico
Pay 580 for blow, better believe
I have 1160 to show, my dough flip like Tae-Kwon
Jay-Z The Icon, baby, you like Dom, maybe this Cristals'll
Change your life, huh? Roll with the winners
Heavy spinners like hit records: Roc-A-Fella
Don't get it corrected, this shit is perfected
From chips to chicks to strippin' a Lexus
Naked without your gun, we taking everything you brung
We cakin', you niggas is fakin', we getting it done
Crime Family, well-connected Jay-Z
And you fake thugs is unplugged like MTV
I empty three, take your treasure, my pleasure
Dead presidentials, politics as usual