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Jay Z - Lay Up Remix Lyrics

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
She getting to know me
She liking me next
She kissing me slow
I'm biting her neck
Just catching the flow
I'm writing the next
She ready to blow
I'm referring to sex, Yes

[Interlude: Trey Songz]
Lay up, lay up
Lay up, lay up

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Siting back with these paper falling in my lap
Feeling isolated nothing but them hundred stacks
When your money up tell me who you supposed to trust
Every night a different women fucking money up
My bank account in shape, I can run with Puff
I came to put you down shorty so what the fuck is up
Since I met her she can't keep that pussy off me
On a pill I'mma kill that pussy softly
Back to back tryna show you how gangster move
Keys to the pent, talking infinity pools
V12's ain't a thing tryna change her name
Papers stuffed in her purse can't hear her phone ring
[Hook: Trey Songz]
She know it’s gametime when I do it like that
When I pass it to her baby throw it right back
She can get the lay up, all night
She be tryna lay up, all right
And when I shoot I don’t miss (don’t miss), I don’t miss (don’t miss)
I don’t miss when I do it now
She could get the lay up, all night
She be tryna lay up, all right

[Verse 3: Jay-Z]
Hold up
The bigger the boat, the better the bitch
Not only boats, baby girl, I ships
A million copies since '96
Plus that 95 South love, I double dip, damn
Dope man I need a dope bitch
So I can divvy up all of this dope shit
I know Versace, know Givenchy, know Guiseppe
Emilio Pucci, introduce you if you let me
I know Stella, Margiela, Marc Jacobs
Micheal Kors fuck 'em all, custom made stuff
I'm a made nigga, you a maid nigga
Get a way, getaway, get away nigga
Jumpin' off boats, hoppin' off another cliff
Every six months I think I need a new bucket list
To whom it applies
Who fuckin' with me
I'm the greatest alive
Love, I know you agree
[Hook]

[Verse 4: Rick Ross]
Getting money come natural stunt in my past time
Making love fucking like it's my last time
You know we fight and fuck, you know we fuck and fight
Ain't nothing perfect baby this is fucking life
Street battle tested, dreams manifested
When we was selling things nigga we was breaking records
Dom Pérignon running down my tatted arm
Other bitches hating on me and my baby born
Had her running with the low and shorty took the charge
Already out on bond, shit I would been scared
She did it like a chief while I was going hard
Now the world is yours, it's your time to ball

[Hook]

[Verse 5: Trey Songz]
From the night to the morn’, yeah she tryna lay
Got a freaky, freaky game and she tryna play
Couple more shots baby can you make it stay, stay up
Lay up, lay up
Might just slap the backboard, give you what you ask for
Lay up