I Love the Dough
|
|
Verse One: Jay-Z
|
|
We push the hottest V's, peel fast
|
through the city, play Monopoly with real cash
|
Me and Biggie and the models be, ?sugar nase and did he ask?
|
?And parotta be?, somethin you cats got to see
|
And the watches be all types and shapes of stones
|
Bein broke is childish and I'm quite grown
|
Run up in the club with the ice on, me and Python
|
Scope the spot out, see somethin nice and I'm gone
|
You cats is home, screamin the fight's on
|
I'm in the fifteen hundred seats, watchin Ty-son
|
Same night, same fight
|
But one of us cats ain't playin 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 pay for hors d'ourves
|
And rack up frequent flier mileage
|
|
Chorus: Angela Winbush
|
|
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
|
|
Verse Two: Notorious B.I.G.
|
|
I'm poppin Magnums while Jigga bag somethin
|
Watch is platinum, got jet lag from
|
flights back and forth, pop corks of the best grapes
|
Make the best CD's 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 big mustaches
|
Rock top fashions
|
Ain't shit changed, except the number after the dot
|
on the Range, way niggaz look at me now, kinda strange
|
I hate y'all too
|
Rather be in Carribean sand to rake through
|
It's unreal, out the blue Frank White got sex appeal
|
Bitches used to go, "Ewww!"
|
Still tote steel, tryin to see five mil
|
off the sin-gle, for real
|
You ain't fazin the amazin
|
While your gun's raisin, mine is blazin
|
See you on see me all talkin to sweetness
|
Take it for weakness and leave quick
|
Blocker, rocker, fellow, Bad Boy collabo
|
Two MC's with mad dough, jewelry on!
|
|
Chorus: Angela Winbush
|
|
I love the dough, more than you know
|
Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey
|
(repeat 2X)
|
|
Verse Three: Jay-Z, Notorious B.I.G.
|
|
Miracu-lous, pockets stay full
|
Niggaz skip the bull cause we matadors
|
Snatch the P-89's that we pack in the drawers
|
And we, clappin doors in your Acuras
|
Snap like, cameras or amateurs
|
Make you all dance, hold a hammer to yours
|
Jig and Big rock ice, no cracks in floors
|
Erybody 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 ?dapped and 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
|
Uhh, uhh
|
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
|
Ridin decidin cracked crab or lobster
|
Who say mobsters don't prosper
|
Niggaz is actors, niggaz deserve Oscars
|
Me I'm, critically acclaimed, slug past your brain
|
Reminesce on dames who, coochie used to stink
|
When we rocked house pieces and puffy Gucci links
|
Now we buy homes in unfamiliar places
|
Tito smile everytime he see our faces
|
Cases catch more than outfield-ers
|
Half these rappin cats, ain't seen war
|
Couldn't score if they had point game, they lame
|
Speak my name, I make em dash like Dame
|
|
Chorus: Angela Winbush
|
|
I love the dough, more than you know
|
Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey
|
(repeat to fade)
|
|
-----------------
|
I Love The Dough
|
| The Notorious B.I.G. |
