theitjournal
Ouch this remix is sick ! The song originally belongs to Drake but Jay Electronica and Jay Z made a big hit out of it !
Jay Electronica apologizes for his absence saying :” Apologies go out to all of my fans cause they waited so patiently
This one is for all of the lost and forgotten black angels that prayed for me A milli, a milli, niggas love me cause I’m ill”
Jay Z kinda disses Drake for what he said about Jay’s rap here’s the whole beef :
Drake : ” It’s like Hov can’t drop bars these days without at least four art references, I would love to collect art at some point, but I think the whole Rap/art world thing is getting kind of corny. “
Hov slammed the guy : Sorry Mrs. Drizzy for so much art talk Silly me rappin’ ’bout shit that I really bought While these rappers rap about guns they ain’t shot And a bunch of other silly shit that they ain’t got
Lyrics:
[Intro: Eastbound & Down (Kenny Powers)]
The only thing I’m seeing I’d like to put an amend on, perhaps a little more room here for the fixins. You know what I’m talkin’ about? Oh, we gon’ have a lot of fixins. We gonna have so many fucking fixins up in this motherfucker, this shit gon’ go through the roof. Got damn I’m shittin’ gold these days
[Soulja Boy]
We made it
We made it
[Verse 1: Jay Electronica]
The devil, the haters, the bloggers, the papers, the labels, they labeled me
But they can’t relate to our struggle, my nigga, we came up from slavery
Apologies go out to all of my fans cause they waited so patiently
This one is for all of the lost and forgotten black angels that prayed for me
A milli, a milli, niggas love me cause I’m ill
The greatest story ever told, niggas in the field
From Solomon to Sambo to Django, it’s fact
I’m the Farrakhan of rap and I get it from the wheel
The son of WD, who hung around in the D
Who ran around in the three
The trap gods raised me
Face all on the Sphinx
Story all in the wall of the pyramids
Niggas know the Black God saved me
You can blow the nose off, that won’t change it
Obamacare won’t heal all that anguish
We came a long way from the bottom of the boat
All praise to the Mahdi, we found our language
Gold necklace, middle finger erected
God tribe of Shabazz stylin’ on the record
Lost sons of Muhammad, we wildin’ in the wreckage
Asha du illah illaha is the message
All these niggas, I got to fight one
All these devils, I got to strike some
All these rebels just waitin’ on the war cry
Mama said: “son, you got to strike drum”
Roc Nation, celebration
Motivation, elevation
Nigga we made it from slaves on a slaveship
Live from the cotton fields, straight to the spaceship
[Interlude: Kenny Powers]
Kinda makes me wonder why the hell so many people are tryna tell me to slow down. Seems like motherfuckers should be shuttin’ the hell up and enjoyin’ the show
[Verse 2: Jay Z]
Hop off the slave ship
Popped off my chain and took it to Jacob, I got it gold plated
Walked in that bitch like “Nigga we made it!”
I own my own masters, you know I ain’t missin’ no royalty statements
I can’t be rated (God, God), damn Hov stunt on them haters
Sorry Mrs. Drizzy for so much art talk
Silly me rappin’ ’bout shit that I really bought
While these rappers rap about guns they ain’t shot
And a bunch of other silly shit that they ain’t got
I’m on my Lupita Nyong’o
Stuntin’ on stage, got the 12 Years A Slave
This Ace of Spades look like an Oscar
Black tux, look like a mobster
Don’t make me RRRRAA yah, nigga watch your tone
I come to court with black boxers on
Y’all hella jealous of my melatonin
I could black out at any given moment
I’m God, G is the seventh letter made
So when my arms & feet shackled I still get paid
All praises due
I’m ready to chase the Yakub back into caves
These are the last days, but do I seem phased?
Showed up to the last supper in some brand new J’s
I’m the true and livin’, book of Hov
New religion, 8th wonder of the world, alien, superstition
You’re blind, baby
Blind to the fact of who you are maybe
My bloodline’s crazy
Kings and queens and Michael Jordan rings
I go stupido, sucio
The flow is filthy, y’all can’t kill me
I’ve been inoculated from the snakes and the fakes
The corny handshakes, cock sucker we made it
The It Journal 
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