Mo Money Mo Problems (feat. Ma$e & Puff Daddy)

Now, who's hot, who's not?
Tell me who rock?
Who sell out in the stores?
You tell me who flopped?
Who copped the blue drop?
Who's jewels got rocks?
Who's mostly Dolce down to the tube sock?

The same old pimp, Mase
You know ain't nothing change but my limp
Can't stop till I see my name on a blimp
Guarantee a million sales pulling all the love
You don't believe in Harlem World
Nigga, double up
We don't play around
It's a bet, lay it down
Nigga didn't know me '91
Bet they know me now

I'm the young Harlem nigga with the goldie sound
Can't no Ph.D. niggas hold me down, Cooter
Schooled me to the game
Now I know my duty
Stay humble
Stay low, blow like Hootie
True pimp niggas spend no dough on the booty
(I don't know what) And then ya yell
"There go Mase!" there go your cutie

They want from me it's like the more money we come across
The more problems we see
I don't know what they want from me it's like
The more money we come across
The more problems we see

From the D-to-the-A-to-the-D-D-Y
Know you'd rather see me die than to see me fly
I call all the shots
Rip all the spots, rock all the rocks
Cop all the drops, I know you thinkin' now's
When all the ballin 'stops

Nigga never home got a chrome one and a yacht
Ten years from now we'll still be on top
Yo, I thought I told you that we won't stop
Now whatcha gonna do when it's cool
Bag a money much longer than yours

And a team much stronger than yours
Violate me this'll be your day
We don't play
Mess around be D.O.A., be on your way
'Cause it ain't enough time here, ain't enough lime here
For you to shine here
Deal with many women but treat dimes fair
And I'm bigger than the city lights down in Times Square
Yeah, yeah yeah

I don't know what they want from me it's like
The more money we come across
The more problems we see
I don't know what they want from me it's like
The more money we come across
The more problems we see

B.I.G., P-O, P-P-A no info for the DEA
Federal agents mad 'cause I'm flagrant
Tap my cell and the phone in the basement
My team supreme, stay clean
Triple beam lyrical dream, I be that
Cat you see at all events bent

Gats in holsters girls on shoulders
Playboy, I told ya, bein' mice to me
Bruise too much, I lose too much
Step on stage the girls boo too much
I guess it's 'cause you run with lame dudes too much

Me lose my touch, never that
If I did, ain't no problem to get the gat
Where the true players at?
Throw your rollies in the sky
Wave 'em side to side and keep their hands high
While I give your girl the eye, player please
Lyrically, niggas see
B.I.G. be flossin' jig on the cover of Fortune
Five double oh

Here's my phone number your name
I got to know, I got to go
Got the flow down phizat, platinum plus
Like thizat, dangerous on trizack
Leave your ass fizzat

I don't know what they want from me it's like
The more money we come across
The more problems we see
I don't know what they want from me it's like
The more money we come across
The more problems we see

I don't know what they want from me it's like
The more money we come across
The more problems we see

What's goin' on? (Somebody tell me)
What's goin' on?

I don't know what they want from me it's like
The more money we come across
The more problems we see
I don't know what they want from me it's like
The more money we come across
The more problems we see

I don't know what they want from me it's like
The more money we come across
The more problems we see



Credits
Writer(s): Sean Combs, Bernard Edwards, Steven Jordan, Christopher Wallace, Nile Rodgers, Mason Betha
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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