Jay-Z, Amil, and Ja Rule "Can I Get a...?"

"Can I Get a...?" Verse I: Jay-Z

Can you bounce wit’ me, bounce wit’ me, wit’ me wit’ me?

Might I interest you in jouncing in synchronization with me, with me, with me, with me?

Can I hit it in the mornin
Without givin you half of my dough?
And even worse: If I was broke, would you want me?
If I couldn’t get you finer things
Like all of them diamond rings bitches kill for
Would you still roll?

Might I be able to persuade you into sunrise intercourse

Without having to empty my coffers for the privilege?

And what’s worse: If I was penniless, would you still desire my member?

If I was unable to acquire for you exotic articles,

Such as the diamond rings petticoats murder each other to possess,

Would you still be my special compatriot?

If we couldn’t see the sun risin off the shore of Thailand
Would you ride then, if I wasn’t drivin?
If I wasn’t a eight-figure nigga by the name of Jigga
Would you come around me or would you clown me?

If we were unable to see the sun rising off a shore of Thailand,

Would you still be my sweetie-pie,

If I didn’t have the moneys available to fund such an excursion?

If I wasn’t a fellow named “Jigga” who earned tens of millions of dollars,

Would you still pay me visits or would you rebuke me?

If I couldn’t flow futuristic, would ya
Put your two lips on my wood and kiss it? Could ya
See yourself wit’ a nigga workin harder than 9:00 to 5:00?
Than 10:00 to 6:00, two jobs to survive? Or
Do you need a balla? So you can shop and tear the mall up?
Brag, tell your friends what I bought ya?
If you couldn’t see yourself wit’ a nigga when his dough is low
Baby girl, if this is so, yo!

If my verbal skills weren’t far ahead of their time, would you

Place your two lips on my penis and kiss it? Could you

See yourself with an African-American male

Employed more demandingly than the standard 40-hour, 9:00 a.m.-to-5:00 p.m. work week?

Or even a 10 a.m.-to-6:00 p.m. work week, or even more!:

Working for two separate employers to make ends meet, or

Do you require a very playboy? Simply so that you can strip the marketplace bare of its goods?

And then gloat to your ladyfriends about what I purchased for your fleeting contentment?

My point is this: If you are unable to picture yourself with an African-American male

Whose earning power is lacking—wee strumpet, if this is true, then please regard the following:

"Can I Get a...?" Chorus

[Jay-Z]

Can I get a fuck you?!
To these bitches from all of my niggaz
Who don’t love hoes. They get no dough

Might I bother you for a—pox on you!

Ha ha! That’s to these harlots from all of my affiliates

Who do not in any way care for you money-hungry women.

You bilkers will receive no compensation from our like!

[Amil]

Can I get a woop woop?!
To these niggaz from all of my bitches
Who don’t got love for niggaz without dubs

May I have a [untranslatable]?!

That’s to these African-American men from all of my familiars

Who have no affection for African-American men

Who don’t own oversized chrome wheel-rims.

"Can I Get a...?" Verse II: Amil

You ain’t gotta be rich but fuck that
How we gonna get around your bus pass?
’Fore I put this pussy on your mustache,
Can you afford me? My niggaz breadwinners, never corny
Ambition makes me so horny

It is not that you must have immense capital, but if you don’t, forget that!

However are we going to ferry ourselves around on your public transportation ticket?

Before I allow you to perform cunnilingus on me, I must know:

Are you able to afford me? My boyfriends past have all been jobholders

—Never a one of them was merely attempting to seem urbane.

It is ambition in a man that accelerates my libido.

Not the fussin and the frontin
If you got nuttin, baby boy, you betta
Get up, get out, get some—shit!
I like a lot of P-rada, Alizé and vodka
Late nights, candlelight, then I tear the cock up

What doesn’t make me amorous are excessive monetary concerns and false fronts.

If you do not have any money, young lad, my best advice is that you had better

Stand up, walk out of your house, and earn some—drat!

For I, I enjoy quantities of clothes from Italian fashion phenom Mario Prada,

And I also enjoy consuming vodka-based Alizé liqueurs.

Furthermore, I appreciate late nights spent by candlelight—

Before I aggressively fornicate you!

Get it up. I put it down every time it pop up, huh
I got to snap em, let it loose, then I knock ya
Feel the juice, then I got ya, when you produce a rock-a
I let you meet Momma and introduce you to Poppa

Harden your penis! I’ll intercourse you until you climax any time you become re-erect.

When I have sex, I must climax. I loosen up my hip movement,

Then begin again with refreshed vigor.

When you feel the fluids of sexual release, you’re under my spell,

So that you’ll purchase for me a precious gem.
I shall allow you to meet my mother and my father.

My coochie remains in a Gucci name
Never test my patience, nigga, I’m high maintenance
High class, if you ain’t rollin, bypass
If you ain’t holdin, I dash, yo

My vagina is only available to those who can buy me products from The House of Gucci.

I implore you to never test my patience, African-American male,

For I require expensive material goods to remain fulfilled.

I am of the elite caste, so if you aren’t similarly monied, begone.

To reiterate: If you haven’t great wealth, I run away!

"Can I Get a...?" Verse III: Ja Rule

It ain’t even a question
How my dough flows, I’m good to these bad hoes
Like my bush wet and undry like damp clothes
What y’all niggaz don’t know: it’s easy to pimp a hoe
Bitches better have my money fo sho

Before they go runnin they mouth, promotin how
I be diggin they back out, go ’head, let it out
I fucks wit’ my gat out, bounce and leave a hundred
Makin em feel slutted even if they don’t want it

It is not even possible to question the extent to which my money becomes available.

I treat these hard-hearted trollops well.

I prefer their pubic hairs be wet with vaginal lubrication,

Or, if you prefer, not dry, such as in the manner of damp clothing.

What you collected African-American males do not know

Is that brokering the sexual favors of women for profit is a simpleton’s task!

All I ask is that my prostitutes have my money for certain when I ask them for it,

Which is of greater importance than having them gossip

About how competently I thrust into them—go ahead, let the truth be known!

Yes, I do intercourse with my machine pistol in one hand

And always leave the women with 100 dollars U.S.

Which makes them feel as if they’re prostitutes even if they don’t wish to feel as such!

It’s been so long
Since I met a chick ain’t about chips but then I’m
Dead wrong, when I tell em be gone
So hold on to the feelin of flossin and platinum
’Cause from now on, you can witness Ja the icon
Wit’ hoodies and Timbs on, ’cause I thugs my bitches’
VV studs my bitches, then we rob bitch niggaz
I’m talkin bout straight figures: If you here, you wit’ us
If not, Boo, you know what, I still fucked you

It has been so long since I have encountered a fastfanny

Who is not money-oriented, but I do regret my mistake when I tell such a genuine woman to depart.

So, to you prostitutes who have known my employ,

Carry with you the feeling of flaunting your signs of wealth, especially the platinum jewelry.

Because from now on, you will be able to witness Ja—myself—idolized, everywhere,

Still wearing hooded sweatshirts and The Timberland Company-brand shoes with which I’m sure you’re familiar.

Because I am still very much personable and down to earth with my women.

And I also adorn my prostitutes with VVS diamond earrings, which are of choicest quality.

After that, my fellows and I burgle from effeminate men!

Do you understand me? I am discussing boundless amounts of wealth!

If you are currently present, then you are of our group;

If not, significant other, don’t you realize? I was still able to intercourse you.