Lyrics: Jigga That Nigga
Album: The Blueprint
Artist: Jay-Z
 
[*Girl speaking french, then says*]
Roc-A-Fella y’all

[Intro – Jay-Z]:
It’s the Roc (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
Woo!!
R-O, R-O-C, nigga (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
HOV!
R-O-C, niggas (Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
(Trackmasters)
R-O-C, niggas (Jay-Z)

[Verse 1]:
Come on a track like duh-duh-duh-duh
Wit’ a throw-back jersey and a fitted
Might blow a bag of hersey and adcentives
I might take sips of army wit’ a chi-ick, I’m so sick wit’ it
Lampin’ in the Hamptons, the weekends, man
In Stan Smith Adidas and a Campus
Or plain guts on a cruise, Hermaine boat shoes
The Izod bucket on, I’m so old school
Yellow wristwatch, Gucci flip-flops
Six top model chicks, who is this hot?
J-A, ladies help me say it now, Y-Z, mami, why you playin’ wit’ me?
Ride wit’ me, get high as me
How it’s supposed to be, when you rollin’ wit’ G’s
HOV! Back up in this bitch like whoa
Jigga get this whole shit jumpin’ like 6-4’s

[Chorus]:
(Hov) He is I and I am him
(Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
Slim with the tilted brim on 20-inch rims
(Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
If y’all got love for me, I got love for y’all
(Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)
And if y’all go to war for me, I’ll go to war wit’ y’all
(Jigga, Jigga, that nigga Jigga)

[Verse 2]:
HOV! It’s on, breeze through jeans, it’s easy, too
She’s respondin’, top is C. Bronson
We in Luon, gettin’ our groove on
Buyin’ out the bar on our way to spa
She never seen a hundred on the wrist before
Never seen 22’s on a six before
I am KILLIN’ ‘EM OUT THERE, they needin first aid
‘Cause the boy got more sixes then first grade
The crib got, killer views and square feet
You have to film MTV Cribs for a week
So, sleep if you need to, mami, I will leave you
Right where you stand, naw, I don’t wanna dance (nah, I’m good)
I just wanna see what’s in you Frankie B. pants
Waist is low enough to let your waist show
Top like a rock star, I got a fast car
We can cruise the city, doin’ a buck-60

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]:
HE DID IT AGAIN?! Haters no like
But they gotta fuck wit’ it ’cause the flow’s so tight
Gnarly, dude, I puff Bob Marley, dude
All day like Rastafaris do
Now I’m stuck to the point, alcoholic mood
You fuckin’ up my high, don’t bother me, dude
Wit’ red Rovers, send ya hoes over
She can do WHATEVER, sip somethin’ wit’ soda
She can leave WHENEVER, sip somethin’ wit’ Hova
We can play HOWEVER, sleigh, bed or sofa
And the prognosis, sex is explosive
Left her wit’ wet bed sheets, nigga I’m FOCUSED

[Chorus]

[Jay-Z]:
WHOA!
R-O-C, R-O-C, niggas
(T.M.)
R-O-C, niggas
(Roc-A-Fella, y’all)