Come On Baby Lyrics

from Greatest Story Never Told

"Come On Baby" is track #3 on the album Greatest Story Never Told. It was written by Carenard, Brian / Justman, Seth / Wolf, Peter / Smith, Justin / Carter, Shawn 'jay Z'.
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"Come On Baby" is track #3 on the album Greatest Story Never Told. It was written by Carenard, Brian / Justman, Seth / Wolf, Peter / Smith, Justin / Carter, Shawn 'jay Z'.
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Hey, hands up
Hey, hands up
Hey, hands up
Hey, hands up
One, two, three, here we go

Microphone check one, two what is this?
The Yardfather coming to give niggas the business
It's so beyond rap, cocksucker, we live this
So um, come on baby, come on, come on and witness

The next ten years of this shit, the slickness is deliberate
Lyrically it's as sick as it get
I been in the pen, been in the jets, been in the end of tep'
I been in the Benz, been in the Lex, been in the MSX

Yes, I run ringers around the fraudulent type
Come here and I'll show you that I spit on just more than a mic
I make it hard for niggas to breathe, please
These wicked emcees squeeze hammers like the pampers
Used to squeeze, hit the DT

I Mike Tyson ya eye, I put a permanent ring around it
Then go run in the booth and sing about it
Look, if I don't hurt the nigga that play with my wealth
I'm like me on Entourage, god, I'm playing myself, let's go

Hold up, the pump will make you jump up
Put ya body in the trunk
(Don't you baby, don't you baby, don't you baby)
Keep going now

New York, and all the way to Cali
And the South'll make ya jump
(Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby)
Don't touch the boy, yup

Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up
Put ya body in the trunk
(Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby)
I'll whip ya ass from New York and all the way to Cali
And the South'll make ya jump
One, two, three, we gone

You ain't crazy, don't you play me, don't you know it's Jay-Z
When Internet ask you who's the best, why won't you say me?
Don't you hate me, c'mon baby, was it all gravy?
I took my lumps coming up just like a boxer baby

My first style may be if I stutter, maybe
But then I slowed it down, brought it from the gutter, baby
Matter fact, I don't give a fuck what you rate me
Record labels told me no, guess what the fuck that make me

Super rich, stupid bitches know I'm super vicious
Like standing over a wounded man with two biscuits
Let's get it clear like eucalyptus if you conflicted
My flow is like the Cuban missile crisis

Nigga my hand missiles is priceless
I hide a couple rare jewels in a verse
For my niggas who like to listen like this
Gotta let it do what it do, baby, come on

Hold up, the pump will make you jump up
Put ya body in the trunk
(Don't you baby, don't you baby, don't you baby)
Keep going now

New York, and all the way to Cali
And the South'll make ya jump
(Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby)
Don't touch the boy, yup

Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up
Put ya body in the trunk
(Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby)
I'll whip ya ass from New York and all the way to Cali
And the South'll make ya jump
One, two, three, we gone

Four finger, three finger, two finger, one finger
Humdinger, gunslinger, that's what I am
Trying to get some cash in my hand as fast as I can
So you should come on baby, come on, come on and fuck with ya man

I got this rap shit down to a science
Lot of niggas' shit is aight, but they ain't fucking with Ryan
First there was some defiance, until I formed an alliance
With Justin, he plugged me in, now I'm as hot as a fucking iron

You lying, all the gun play talk
Knowing behind closed doors you be practicing on ya runway walk
I been in the kill, been in the cap, been in the box and back
I been in the ville, tripping the gat, trimming a boxing match

And I still walk around this fucker with not a scratch
And that's way more then I can say for a lot of cats
My name's Saigon, nigga
Break bread muthafucka 'fore I break ya fucking head lil sucka

Hold up, the pump will make you jump up
Put ya body in the trunk
(Don't you baby, don't you baby, don't you baby)
Keep going now

New York, and all the way to Cali
And the South'll make ya jump
(Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby)
Don't touch the boy, yup

Hold up, the pump will make ya jump up
Put ya body in the trunk
(Come on baby, come on baby, come on baby)
I'll whip ya ass from New York and all the way to Cali
And the South'll make ya jump
One, two, three, we gone

Songwriters
CARENARD, BRIAN / JUSTMAN, SETH / WOLF, PETER / SMITH, JUSTIN / CARTER, SHAWN 'JAY Z'

Published by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Royalty Network, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group

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