[Intro: Kanye West]
Heavy hitters fo' life
Heavy hitters fo' life
Mm, mm
Mm-mm

[Verse 1: Kanye West]
You rappers think I give a fuck about the way that they spit
Wanna be on my album, but don't want me on they shit
Everybody thought I was making a compilation
I was really making myself they compe-tation
Fresh off the plane from the All-Star game
Bone girls on T.V., so it's All-Star trains
Just picture, man (Uh-huh), no snitchin', mane (Uh-uh)
Something for the fiends fresh out the kitchen, man
Last 9/11, I was poor on the Ave., 'til I pluralled my math
Now it's Porsche 911 and I'm flooring the gas (Err!)
Got a lot of problems, money's one that I not have (No more, ugh)
Well, Dame look at how everybody changed
Tell Jay that I'm 'bout to change the game
Tell Biggs that we about to get paid
All my n***as is 'bout to have it made
This makes everything else sound played
"Goddamn, Kanye!" ("Kanye, Kanye!")
Now hold up! Ain't nobody messing with me, dog
Now, you say it! ("Ain't nobody messin' with you at all!")
I told dude, "You can't even rap on my interlude"
Now, does that make me as rude as Jude?
("When the album coming out?") Man, the people is asking
Yamamoto, Adidas, he's sick with the fashion
You already got dough, so you spit for the passion (Ugh)
The way you rhyme give me Tribe Called Quest flashbacks
And let's not even bring up the tracks, man
Nope, nope, let's not do that, man
You eating up the game like Pac-Man
And got the whole world shaking just like crack fiends
[Chorus: Kanye West]
Heavy hitters, fo' life (Woo!)
Roc-a-Fella, is fo' life
Throw your diamonds up, throw your diamonds up
Throw your diamonds...