USA Hang OUT

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[Jay-Z]Turn the motherfucking music up

[Cam'Ron]
Just Blaze, man. You owe me nigga

[Jay-Z]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Welcome to the Empire State.
Home of the World Trade. Birthplace of Michael Jordan.
Home of Biggie Smalls. Roc-A-Fella headquaters.
Ladies and gentlemen, Killa Cam, Young Hov is definitely in the building
Brooklyn, Harlem World
(Welcome to New York City, welcome to New York City)
Stand the fuck up!

[Jay-Z]
I’m a B.K. brawler
Marcy projects hallway loiterer
Pure coke copper, get your order up
I bring em to Baltimore in the ford explorer
It’s gonna cost you more if I gotta get em to Florida
Rugged game attender
With the bent pole on the sidewalk with the tin plates on the fender
I ain’t hard to find you catch me frontin center
At the Knick game, big chain and all my splender
Match the spike and the pen left to write
I own Madison Square, catch me at the fight
But damn once again if you pan left at the ice
If you the man that write checks with the hand that don’t write
I go off the head when I’m rambling on the mic
And I go off the feds when I’m srambling at night
And if its off the set I brought hammers to the fight
But we from New York City, right Cam?

[Cam'ron]
Ya damn right

[Juelz Santana]
It’s the home of 9-11, the place of the lost towers
We still banging, we never lost power, tell em
Welcome to New York City, welcome to New York City
Y’all fuckin with BK’s banger and Harlem’s own gangster
Now that’s danger theres nothing left to shape up
Welcome to New York City, welcome to New York City

[Cam'Ron]
Yo, theres a war going on outside no man is safe from
It don’t matter if you three feet or eight-one
You’ll get eight from me, nine and straight blown
Wig split, melon crack