I Love the Dough (2016 Remastered)

We push the hottest V's, peel fast
Through the city, play Monopoly with real cash
Me and Biggie and the models be shaking they sadiddy ass
And parada be something you cats got to see
And the watches be all types and shapes of stones
Being broke is childish and I'm quite grown
Run up in the club with the ice on, me and Paisan
Scope the spot out, see something nice and I'm gone
You cats is home screaming the fight's on
I'm in the fifteen hundred seats, watching Tyson
Same night, same fight
But one of us cats ain't playing right, I let you tell it
People place yourselves in the shoes of two felons
And tell me you won't ball every chance you get
And any chance you hit, we live for the moment
Makes sense don't it? Now make dollars
Cats pop bottles, bone chicks that favor Idalis
And rack up frequent flier mileage

Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey
I love the dough, more than you know

Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey

I'm popping Magnums while Jigga bag something
Watch is platinum, got jet lag from
Flights back and forth, pop corks of the best grapes
Make the best CDs and the best tapes
Don't forget the vinyl, take girls break spinals
Biggie be Richie like Lionel, shit
You seen the Jesus, dipped to H classes
Ice project off lights, chick flashes
Blind your broke asses, even got rocks in the beards and moustaches
Rock top fashions
Ain't shit changed, except the number after the dot
On the Range, way niggas look at me now, kinda strange
I hate y'all too
Rather be in Carribean sands with Rachel
It's unreal, out the blue Frank White got sex appeal
Bitches used to go, "Ewww!"
Still tote steel, I'm trying to see five mil
Off the single, for real
You ain't fazing the amazing
While your gun's raising, mine is blazing
See you on see me all talking to sweetness

Take it for weakness and leave quick

Blocka, Roc-a-Fella, Bad Boy collabo
Two MCs with mad dough, you know

I love the dough, more than you know
Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey
I love the dough, more than you know
Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey

Miraculous, pockets stay full
Niggas skip the bull cause we matadors
Snatch the P89s that we pack in the drawers
And we clap the doors of your Acuras
Snap like cameras on amateurs
Make you all dance, hold a hammer to yours

Jig and Big rock ice, no cracks or flaws
Everybody got a part to play, back to yours

Run up in your crib now, crack your doors
Watch the real players live, it's a habit to floss
Play the charts like The Beatles, y'all adapt you lost
And toast Cristal on behalf of y'all
Too bad for y'all
Ain't too many as bad as yours truly
Do we, we laugh at y'all
Little bastards y'all

We hit makers with acres
Roll shakers in Vegas, you can't break us
Lost chips on Lakers, gassed off Shaq
Country house, tennis courts on horseback
Riding, deciding cracked crab or lobster
Who say mobsters don't prosper
Niggas is actors, niggas deserve Oscars
Me I'm critically acclaimed, slug passed your brain
Reminisce on dames whose coochie used to stink
When we rocked house pieces and puffy Gucci links
Now we buy homes in unfamiliar places
Tito smile every time he see our faces
Cases catch more than outfielders
Half these rapping cats ain't seen war
Couldn't score if they had point game, they lame
Speak my name, I make 'em dash like Dame



Credits
Writer(s): Christopher Wallace, Angela Winbush, Shawn Carter, Osten S. Jr. Harvey, Rene Moore
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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