*featuring Adina Howard
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[Intro]
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Ooh, yeah, yeah.
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What's love got to do.
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Warren G, rap for me, yeah-eah, yeah, mm mm.
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[Verse 1]
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When G-dog, the hog, come up in the place,
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There's dollar signs in your eyes and a smile in your face.
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You wanna live fat, all for my sack.
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You got more drag than a low lo-do, cut the act,
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'Cause back before '92 and '93,
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You didn't give a damn about Warren G,
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But now that I'm slingin' platinum LP's,
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All of a sudden, you on my N.U.T's.
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Ain't nothin' you can do to make it stop,
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'Cause money makes the world go 'round and the panties drop.
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I ain't in love though, I don't need the pressure.
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I just wanna dig it like I'm diggin' for treasure.
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Some of y'all had a good thing that you couldn't keep,
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Thought you was TLC, you had to creep.
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You say you had love, I said you need to quit.
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It's all about the dough, so what's love got to do with it?
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[Chorus]
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What's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)?
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What's love if you don't respect the game (uh-huh)?
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What's love got to do, got to do with it?
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If you lack in this game, it's a shame, you won't make it.
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[Verse 2]
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Now, I'm the type of brother that's down for mines.
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Before I made beats, I was down to grind.
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Back then, every single homey had my back,
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Now they're peepin' my stack and they're talkin' bout jack,
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But I'm the same brother day in and day out,
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And I'm-a stay that way until the day I lay out in a casket.
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It's drastic, 'cause homies is plastic.
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Break 'em off some bread, they want the whole damn basket.
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If you's a true homey, you would wish me well,
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Not plot to see a brother fell, jealous as hell.
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We used to get the same riches.
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Now your trigger-finger got the itches, schemin' on my riches
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Which is not a suprise, my eyes peep game,
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211's, 187's it's all the same.
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It's all a shame, homies'd jack you for your grip.
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Ain't no love involved, because it's all about the chips.
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[Repeat chorus]
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[Verse 3]
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Now for these labels tellin' fables,
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Makin' the messed-up deals under the tables.
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You think that you smart, but, fool, I'm the smartest.
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You can't make no money if you can't keep an artist.
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Sign the dotted line, put 'em on the shelf.
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Break 'em off some crumbs, keep the rest for yourself.
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I know how it goes, treat an artist like you know,
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Fly cars, gold, clothes, but no dough.
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Since it's all business, I'm-a handle mine,
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Keep track of my stack down to the very last dime,
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'Cause in this rap game, it's all about the buck.
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You bend over for the label and you will get bucked,
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Like how we run up in the skirt, and then you're through.
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The record label do the same thing to you.
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90% business, 10% show.
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Ain't no love in this game, 'cause it's all about the dough.
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-----------------
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What's Love Got To Do With It
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Warren G |