Kanye West - Last Call
Дата добавления: 02 сентября 2017
Формат: mp3
Исполнители: Kanye West
Битрейт: 320 Kbps
Размер: 29.03 Mb
Продолжительность: 12:41
Просмотры: 0
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Текст песни
[Intro:]
[Jay-Z:]
Yo! Fuck you, Kanye, first and foremost for makin' me do this shit, mufucka! Had to throw everybody out the mothafuckin' room ‘cause they don't fuckin'.
[Kanye West:]
I'd like to propose a toast! I said toast, mothafucka!
[Chorus:]
And I am
Here's to the Roc!
And they ask me, they ask me, they ask me, I tell ‘em,
Here's to Roc-A-Fella!
Raise your glasses, your glasses, your glasses to the sky and
Here's to the Roc!
This is the last call for alcohol for the
Mr. Roc-A-Fella!
So get your ass up off the wall!
[Verse 1:]
The all around the world Digital Underground Pac,
The Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer of the Roc.
I take my chain, my fifteen seconds of fame
And come back next year with the whole fuckin' game!
Ain't nobody expect Kanye to end up on top,
They expected that College Dropout to drop and then flop,
Then maybe he stop savin' all the good beats for himself,
Roc-A-Fella's only niggas that helped.
My money was thinner than Sean Paul's goatee hair,
Now Jean Paul Gaultier cologne fill the air, here,
They say he bougie, he big-headed,
Would you please stop talkin' about how my dick head is?
Flow infectious, give me ten seconds,
I'll have a buzz bigger than insects in Texas.
It's funny how wasn't nobody interested
Till the night I almost killed myself in Lexus.
[Chorus:]
And I am
Here's to the Roc!
And they ask me, they ask me, they ask me, I tell ‘em,
Here's to Roc-A-Fella!
Raise your glasses, your glasses, your glasses to the sky and
Here's to the Roc!
This is the last call for alcohol, for the
Mr. Roc-A-Fella!
So get your ass up off the wall!
[Verse 2:]
Now was Kanye the most overlooked? Yessir!
Now is Kanye the most overbooked? Yessir!
Though the fans want the feeling of A Tribe Called Quest,
But all they got left is this guy called West
That'll take Freeway, throw him on tracks with Mos Def,
Call him Kwali or Kweli, I put him on songs with Jay-Z,
I'm the Gap like Banana Republic and Old Navy, and ooh,
It come out sweeter than old Sadie.
Nice as Bun B when I met him at the Source Awards,
Girl he had with him – ass coulda won the horse awards.
And I was almost famous, now everybody love Kanye,
I'm almost Raymond.
Some say he arrogant, can y'all blame him?
It was straight embarrassing how y'all played him,
Last year shoppin' my demo, I was tryna shine,
Every mothafucka told me that I couldn't rhyme.
Now I could let these dreamkillers kill my self-esteem,
Or use my arrogance as the steam to power my dreams,
I use it as my gas, so they say that I'm gassed,
But without it I'd be last, so I ought to laugh.
So I don't listen to the suits behind the desk no more,
You niggas wear suits ‘cause you can't dress no more,
You can't say shit to Kanye West no more,
I rocked twenty thousand people, I was just on tour, nigga!
I'm Kan, the Louis Vuitton Don,
Bought my mom a purse, now she Louis Vuitton Mom,
I ain't play the hand I was dealt, I changed my cards,
I prayed to the skies and I changed my stars.
I went to the malls and I balled too hard,
‘Oh my god, is that a black card?'
I turned around and replied, ‘Why yes,
But I prefer the term African American Express.'
Brains, power, and muscle like Dame, Puffy and Russell,
Your boy back on his hustle, you know what I've been up to
Killin' y'all niggas on that lyrical shit,
Mayonnaise colored Benz, I push Miracle Whips!
[Chorus:]
And I am
Here's to the Roc!
And they ask me, they ask me, they ask me, I tell ‘em,
Here's to Roc-A-Fella!
Raise your glasses, your glasses, your glasses to the sky and
Here's to the Roc!
This is the last call for alcohol for my niggas,
Mr. Roc-A-Fella!
So get your ass up off the wall!
[Jay-Z:]
Yo! Fuck you, Kanye, first and foremost for makin' me do this shit, mufucka! Had to throw everybody out the mothafuckin' room ‘cause they don't fuckin'.
[Kanye West:]
I'd like to propose a toast! I said toast, mothafucka!
[Chorus:]
And I am
Here's to the Roc!
And they ask me, they ask me, they ask me, I tell ‘em,
Here's to Roc-A-Fella!
Raise your glasses, your glasses, your glasses to the sky and
Here's to the Roc!
This is the last call for alcohol for the
Mr. Roc-A-Fella!
So get your ass up off the wall!
[Verse 1:]
The all around the world Digital Underground Pac,
The Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer of the Roc.
I take my chain, my fifteen seconds of fame
And come back next year with the whole fuckin' game!
Ain't nobody expect Kanye to end up on top,
They expected that College Dropout to drop and then flop,
Then maybe he stop savin' all the good beats for himself,
Roc-A-Fella's only niggas that helped.
My money was thinner than Sean Paul's goatee hair,
Now Jean Paul Gaultier cologne fill the air, here,
They say he bougie, he big-headed,
Would you please stop talkin' about how my dick head is?
Flow infectious, give me ten seconds,
I'll have a buzz bigger than insects in Texas.
It's funny how wasn't nobody interested
Till the night I almost killed myself in Lexus.
[Chorus:]
And I am
Here's to the Roc!
And they ask me, they ask me, they ask me, I tell ‘em,
Here's to Roc-A-Fella!
Raise your glasses, your glasses, your glasses to the sky and
Here's to the Roc!
This is the last call for alcohol, for the
Mr. Roc-A-Fella!
So get your ass up off the wall!
[Verse 2:]
Now was Kanye the most overlooked? Yessir!
Now is Kanye the most overbooked? Yessir!
Though the fans want the feeling of A Tribe Called Quest,
But all they got left is this guy called West
That'll take Freeway, throw him on tracks with Mos Def,
Call him Kwali or Kweli, I put him on songs with Jay-Z,
I'm the Gap like Banana Republic and Old Navy, and ooh,
It come out sweeter than old Sadie.
Nice as Bun B when I met him at the Source Awards,
Girl he had with him – ass coulda won the horse awards.
And I was almost famous, now everybody love Kanye,
I'm almost Raymond.
Some say he arrogant, can y'all blame him?
It was straight embarrassing how y'all played him,
Last year shoppin' my demo, I was tryna shine,
Every mothafucka told me that I couldn't rhyme.
Now I could let these dreamkillers kill my self-esteem,
Or use my arrogance as the steam to power my dreams,
I use it as my gas, so they say that I'm gassed,
But without it I'd be last, so I ought to laugh.
So I don't listen to the suits behind the desk no more,
You niggas wear suits ‘cause you can't dress no more,
You can't say shit to Kanye West no more,
I rocked twenty thousand people, I was just on tour, nigga!
I'm Kan, the Louis Vuitton Don,
Bought my mom a purse, now she Louis Vuitton Mom,
I ain't play the hand I was dealt, I changed my cards,
I prayed to the skies and I changed my stars.
I went to the malls and I balled too hard,
‘Oh my god, is that a black card?'
I turned around and replied, ‘Why yes,
But I prefer the term African American Express.'
Brains, power, and muscle like Dame, Puffy and Russell,
Your boy back on his hustle, you know what I've been up to
Killin' y'all niggas on that lyrical shit,
Mayonnaise colored Benz, I push Miracle Whips!
[Chorus:]
And I am
Here's to the Roc!
And they ask me, they ask me, they ask me, I tell ‘em,
Here's to Roc-A-Fella!
Raise your glasses, your glasses, your glasses to the sky and
Here's to the Roc!
This is the last call for alcohol for my niggas,
Mr. Roc-A-Fella!
So get your ass up off the wall!
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