Video Show Y Prove Video Version de Jay Z 2025 Hip Hop Lyrics

Jay Z - Show Y Prove Video Version Lyrics

[Intro: Slick Rick]
Bust a move, we show and prove

[Verse 1: Scoob]
Ha ha, hey hey, laugh now nigga
My man's right behind you, Kane pull the trigger
I don't play, I'm from the hill where shit is real
And I'll be on your ass like bugs on a windshield
I cut hair and you still can't get no part
You couldn't deal with Scoob if we was playing cards
But if I got beef, then it's time for code red
My gun is like a ho, it be taking mad niggas to bed
So hurry up and skedaddle
Even if you join the army, you still couldn't battle
So where you from? England, you somebody great?
You burning Scoob? "I don't think so mate"
Yo Sauce, if you're down with the groove
Get on the mic and won't ya show and provе

[Verse 2: Sauce Money]
Hey! Here I comе with a slick rap, tic-tac-toe
When I flip tracks, so gimme my dick, back
I flow to it and through it, if you ever need to wonder
How you got dope like Sauce Money, you didn't do it
I write my own with bigger hope, drink of Scope
Wrote what I figured, nope, damn, you dig a nigga doe
Rhymes too drastic, bastard, pull hookers like elastic
NBA style, fantastic!
As I get ready I'm steady, if I go crazy I'd take Eddie
If I was Fred, I think I'd have to bone Betty
Sucking and lucking, hey! Niggas I'm ducking, nay
Nada, no, never — meaning ain't no motherfuckin' way!
Rappers get gassed, come on and get fast
Try to get past when I blast and you can hand over your ass
One line and that's fear
Rappers get so damn pussy, they gotta go for a pap smear
So Shyheim, if you're down with the groove
Get on the mic, it's time to show and prove
[Verse 3: Shyheim]
Yo, yo
So check me out as I flip this sick track, kid
And make mad noise like a Metallica record
I'm psycho, a villain to the styles I be killin' when I'm thrusted
And all competition gets dusted
'Cause I rock the world from U.S.A. to Asia to Russia
If your shit stinks, I'mma flush ya then bust ya
Like a crazy man from Cali, son
My jams be packed like a Farrakhan rally, what?!
You know my style, I put the F in effin' foul
The Rugged Child locks shit down like Rikers Isle
And got more girls than a trailer load with Shabba
More Super than Cat, I'm the punani Don Dada
So Big Daddy, if you're down with the groove, my man
Get on the mic and won't ya show and prove

[Verse 4: Big Daddy Kane]
Now tell me, who is the man
With the high-potent lyrics no rapper can ever stand?
I get down on it and give it to rappers that even act like they want it
I come for your title kid, run it!
Or else get hit with the ultimate, too legit skit
Ahh, yeah! That's that shit!
Drop lyrics on ya strong as ammonia
That'll dethrone ya, scorn ya, joan ya, I tried to warn ya
You was wack since I known ya, fake as a cubic zirconia
What I just shown ya, real lyrics doggone ya
Strong as an elephant, intelligent, compellin' and elegant
So well in it with every single element
And competition gets none!
If I was wearing pantyhose, you still couldn't give me no run
And let's just make one more thing understood
That if I fart on a record, trust me, nigga, it'll sound good
So Jay-Z, if you're down with the groove, my mellow
Get on the mic, it's time to show and prove
[Verse 5: JAY-Z]
Uh, I'm breaking MC's up like EPMD
And these nuts if you rappers tryin' to see me
I'm buckwild with styles, ta-dow
I've been in it runnin' a hundred miles, I'm well endowed, baby gal
Uhh! The greatest nigga to touch it, you niggas can't fuck with
The, incredible skills of the G from Brooklyn, big up, kid!
And ain't no eatin' me up, you fast fuckin' with Jigga
I'm like Prince jeans, I bring the ass out a nigga
When I rock it, it's in the pocket
Baby, mop it, don't knock it 'til you try it
Once you start, you can't stop it
I'm the cocky breed, I'm dope like poppy seed
I live one rent from besides that be
Between get off my dick and stop jockin' me
When I bust a rhyme, you're diggin' the sound
I know you lovin' the way it's goin' down, baby
So Ason, huh, if you're down with the groove
Why don't ya get on the mic and show and prove?

[Verse 6: Ol Dirty Bastard]
Come on, Wu-Tang Killa Beez on a Swarm
Rain on your college ass, disco dorm
Slippery when wet and don't you ever forget
You couldn't get a flick, of the hype outfit
Because the way that I dress this style, mad wild
Enough to make a crowd of women scream "Ow!"
My beats are funky and my rhymes are spunky
Sometimes I'll be like, "Well god damn what's the recipe?"
I don't know, I ask my momma, she don't know
She says, "Go ask your goddamn father!"
It's all about me in the place to be
Niggas think they all that, yo, that shit is G
Mad game and it's a motherfucking shame
How many enemies wanna claim the name
Of Ason, who carries on like a manager
Yo! Sounds fly, right?
Danger!