Songtext We made it Jay-Z

We made it

The devil, the haters, the bloggers, the papers, the labels, they label 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 Soloman to [?] to Django, it's fact
I'm the Farrakhan of rap and I get it from the will
The son of W.D., who hung around in the deep
Who ran the [?], the trap gods raised me
Fake Solomon Sphinx, story all in the wall of the pyramids
Niggas know the black gods 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 [?] found our language
Gold necklace, middle finger erected
God [?] Shabazz styling on the record
Lost sons of Muhammad, we wildin' on the records
[?] 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
Momma said "Son, you got to strike drum"
Roc Nation, celebration
Motivation, elevation
Nigga we made it from slaves on the slave ship
Live from the cotton field, straight to the spaceship

Kinda makes me wonder why the hell so many people are tryna tell me to slow down. Seems like motherfu*kers should be shuttin' the hell up and enjoyin' the show

Top of the slave ship
Poppin' my chain, and took it to Jacob, I got it gold plated
Walked in that bi*ch like "Nigga we made it!"
I own my old masters, no I ain't missin' no royalty statements
I can't be rated, damn Hov stunt on them haters
Sorry mister Drizzy for as much I talk
Silly me rappin' 'bout sh*t that I really bought
Why these rappers rap about guns they ain't shot?
And a bunch of other silly sh*t that they ain't got
I'm on my Luke, Peter, [?]
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 Mellotone
I could black out at any given moment
I'm god, [?]
So when I'm on the beat shackled I still get paid
All praises due
I'm ready to chase a [?] back in the cage
These are the last days, why do I sink fades
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 made me
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