[Intro/chorus repeat 2x]

And we gonna stay hustling on that block until we caught

And we gonna stay showing off that jewelry that we bought

And we gonna stay leaving out the stores with heavy bags

Cause we poppin tags, pimping we be poppin tags!

[Verse one jay-z]

We arose, let's go

"So fresh so clean" like 'kast

Jay-z be popping tags

Leaving the mall with heavy bags

You know the boy got a love for the cash

Aw fuck, there he go again

Talking about hoes and dough again

Yup! — can't hold it in

I'm surprised I got so much dough to spend

But, back when I was poorer then

You wasn't focusing, about the dough I spend

But I was holding in, I was a roller then

I was a baller back then, all of that man

Fall back, I fought that

What would you do if you was in my shoes?

Leave dudes in the rearview

V-12 engine, corners spinning

Twinkies shining, pinky ring

Armadale, nigga stinky stink

Top, down, my cash is up

Gold chain, I don't give a fuck

Gold brain'll get you in the truck ma

That's right, you in luck ma

You see me cruising down, better step inside

Ain't enough room to fit you all in the ride

First come, first served basis

You know hov' be goin to nice places

That's right, and I'm droppin cash

Leave the mall with garbage bags

Gucci this, prada that

Roll with you boy you'll be popping tags

[Chorus]

[Verse two twista]

It's a party when I go up in the store

Shoppin while I'm zooted off the dro'

Rollin like a nigga that just came up on a mill'

And I got 'em sweeping and pickin up tags off the floor

Bag full of clothes I remember having rocks in the hall

On the glimmer with the glock by the ball

Serving up a jab and working security 6 to 6

Then it's straight from the block to the mall

Now what's on the wall? go ahead and treat yourself

When you come up on some cheddar better pop that tag

Like when I dip off in the prada then I go off

To the lot lay the paper down and cop that jag

I got a console full of ammunition and funds

Mink roc-a-wear and some guns

Petty in a fresh pair of jumps, blo-packs and bo jax

And air maxes, throw back some ones, no max for none

(When I go up in the store a nigga never get enough)

I'm a baller and if you want it come and get it now

(Nigga come to a race with a car you won't catch up)

And the twista kinda wicked when I spit it now

I be choppin up cheddar with kanye

Chop a little cheddar up with jay

Chop it up with the o-to-the-kizay

Poppin big tags with the flow and the dough, we get bi-zay!

[Chorus]

[Verse three killer mike]

Uh-huh, what's up? tell you something about me..

My throwback game is whiffle wicked

Saint patties day, green pinstripe, number 20 mark spitz'n

Jersey ooh-wee with the matchin nu*wear fitted

White boys say my style is bitchin

Keeping coke in the kitchen

Keep a glock that will shock and bring the rest

Tucked underneath my mitchell and ness

I, travelling, handling with a forty-five cannon

It's tucked in my marc buchanan

Extra clips and shells in the lambskin

Two deep by pelle pelle

Westside how they felly fell

More g's on me, than a late 80's gucci leather

Worn by the great rakim himself

Stitch my dapper dan oh man with the gun in hand

I leave your blood squirting

No offense, I'll put your face on the chest

Of a sweatshirt drawn by shirt kings

I been fucking, a hustle, married to a racket

Since the first air jordan's and starter jackets

I slept with a package, under mattress

I carry guns heavy speakeasy, slight with the fight words

I'll put something hot through your motherfucking iceberg

Got a project chica, named rica

She keep a purse full of dro' reefer

Small, pinkies like that

Talk 'til the paper fat

I rock somethin, roll chief +sacks+ like daddy fat!

[Chorus]

[Verse four big boi]

Pop tires in reverse, you'll be needin a nurse

Leave you laying on your back in a cadillac hearse

Now your momma in all black with a matchin purse

I know you wanna blow up, but a funeral hurts

What's worse, you can hit the mall and ball 'til you fall

Have to make a collect call, but your cell cut off

Trot to the mailbox thinkin a check but the mail's run short

No more md, dd, ld

That means movie date, dinner date, lunch date, help me please

My sheets is gone

Long bread to the short bread, word is bond

Meticulously pompously serve the song

Act a damn donkey

Like the pilgrims when they popped a tag on the indians home

Drop top rag-o with the weed gone

Chilling, bags in the trunk full of fao schwartz for the chill'uns

Spent a few shillings

Sip a few chickens, lick a few kittens, just kidding

A fresh bowl of milk is in the fridge and

Can you pop the tags on the honeycombs

Or are you acting mad cause the money done

Slowed, down, just a little bit

Dipped, poked out, did some shull-bit

Acting like a pitfall bull-pit

Dead game is the pul-pit

Leave a motherpumper with his john doe toe tag clipped

Imperial classic, a lyrical thrashing

A miracle happening

Jay-z, killer mike and big boi rappin and rhyming and smabbin

Pop that tag on some of this game

Holla-tic, swallow and keep the change

[Chorus]