Jay had famously controlled the Summer season for the past eight years with a succession of successful releases. “Dear Summer” is a metaphorical letter written to the rap game reminiscing about his career, and then bidding it farewell. The record is so crazy we was going to put it out the day after, but Jay was like, ’Nah, chill.’ Then he was like, ’I want to do it as a song, but I have nowhere to put it.’ So it just sat there forever and then he spit it that one day on the radio. When he finished the song, Guru went to stop the beat and Jay was like, ’Nah, keep it going.’ He started spitting that rhyme out of nowhere. He was rapping to the beat for the tennis shoe commercial Green Lantern did. ![]() In an interview with MTV, Just Blaze explained Hov had the verse in his head for a year before he let it loose:įirst time I heard it was when he did the last S. The first time Hov unleashed this verse was during a Hot 97 interview on February 7, 2005. Produced by Just Blaze, “Dear Summer” is one of Jay-Z’s best efforts displaying his supreme language consciousness and elite word play. ![]() some queer, I still want them to share In all the success I received, I know you can't believe I still love 'em but they don't love me They like the drunk uncle in your family You know they lame, you feel ashamed But you love em the same It's like when niggas make subliminal records If it ain't directed directly at me, I don't respect it You don't really want it with Hov, for the record I put a couple careers on hold, you could be next, kid Keep entering the danger zone You gon' make that boy Hov put your name in a song If you that hungry for fame, motherfucker, c'mon Say when, take ten paces and spin But on another note, 'bout to take another vacay On another boat, goddamn, a motherfucker wrote His way out the hood, and I pray that I stay out for good But any day you know a nigga could Try and play like he Suge, then I gotta play like Dutch Schultz You pass the dutchie, I blast you, trust me Niggas can't fuck with me I'm in a good mood, you lucky, I got a good groove And I ain't trying to fuck my thing up But I will lay down a couple green bucks, get you cleaned up Non-Pulp Fiction, Colt four-fifth and Young niggas that blast for me, no religion Dear Summer, I know you gon' miss me For we been together like Nike Airs and crisp tees S dots with Polo fleeces Purple label shit with the logo secret Gimme couple years, shit I might just sneak in A couple words and like Peaches & Herb We'll be reunited and it feels so hood Have the whole world saying "How you still so good?" Well I do this in my slumber, Summer I ain't none of these half-assed newcomers You know how I do, Summer I drop heat, when you bring the sun up The combo make niggas act up, I pick the gun up Niggas back up they know I'm not no fronter I don't talk SHIT, I just flip it Un ya Sorry Lance, I'm just trying to advance my quotes I ain't making you the butt of my jokes But let's not stray from what I came to say To my beloved, think we need some time away They say if you love it, you should let it out its cage And fuck it, if it comes back, you know it's there to stay It's tugging, at my heart, but this time apart is needed From the public, who should've gave me the Pulitz' Instead gave me they ass to kiss But you know me, thugging 'til the casket dips But still shine light down on all my peers I know they weird.
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