Lyrics: You're Only A Customer

Intro:
Ha ha ha ha Roc a Fella y'all
Futuristic shit beeotch
Uh what the fuck? How we do. How we do. Uh ha

Verse 1:
Triple platnum nigga with the solid gold fade
All that nickle and dime shit don't hold no weight
Fortune 5 top 5 in the Forbes (you'll see) as you
Thumb through the Source I read the Ride report
Class C cold me down with the plastic
That's all I Ask Of You, like Raphael Saadiq
At the hotel, Nico, robbin' the val suite
My people's eyes through the peep hole
I'm lovin' you down freak as I
Shoot through the city like a rumor
Not soon enough, to stop 'em from spreadin' the news
Paper headin' read "Jay-Z breaths, 80 degrees"
the only thing to cool them off is a Malibu day breeze
Can't sop for the feds, say cheese
You know they wanna take a nigga picture
Pray for the day to get ya, but I'm a parlay and stay richer for now
Jigga hasn't done dirt in a while
YOu know my stomach getin' weak from livin' on the streets for real
Tryin' to oversee it from suites, orderin' eats
At the top where the criminal minds meet
That's where the cream is (right) , that's where your dream is (well ain't
it?)

Hook:
You're only a customer (uh)
Walkin' in the presence of hustlers
You spend money all night long
"All night long" - Mary J. Blige

Verse 2:
A-yo my youth had a nigga too aggressive
I use to speed excessive, both eyes closed
No thought infested
Hittin' pot holes, cop-o's will snatch your weight
But your game most precious
Had to rethink things, is pinky ring worth
Life on the run and time served in Sing Sing
I don't know to tell the truth
If I'm pressed for doe, I got to consoul Irv Gotti y'all

Irv Gotti:
Heads got to roll

Jay-Z:
I was raised to live, Lord I pray you forgive
If not, I just handle it like Jason Kidd
What you're facin' is official (it's official)
Most cases when I'm blazin' won't miss you (won't miss you)
Case and point mad bullshitted issue
I see it to the end, my writting is so personal
My heart bleedin' out my pen, make no mistake aobut me
It's only one nigga livin', I got a half a cake about me
I got love, to make a nigga die bleedin' is nothin'
You make a motherfucker die breathin' then you sayin' somthing, beeotch

Hook (X3)

More flavor than y'all can image havin'
Graphic like Sega, Saturn, traffic like the Bodega
It just so happens, you caught me at the the tail end of my dive
My brain ain't right from inhaling the work of my life
Fuck it, 3's in ya, had to hold
D.C. high pissy off Cristle
3 G's high seasoned Bacardy, UV's
Blesses my body, we be fresh at the party
Play yourself go head if you don't no the ledge
It's like spittin' to God
Get it in your face fuckin' with niggas over your head
Take your time with me, shiftee
Use to make Coke stretch like the samplin' a 950
Shit with that, while I'm o a Kawasoki bike
At the light, doin' a pike, with a bitch on the back
And take flight, my life like it was directed by Hype
In 35 slow-mo, with the Rockafella logo
Accapoco to Arruba, bay breezes and caviar baluga
Very little loot, a loser
In the grashish blueish, Les Coup it's the root of evil in these people

Hook (X3)