Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Foe Tha Love Of $, artist - Eazy-E.
Date of issue: 20.06.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Foe Tha Love Of $ |
For the love of money |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Gotta get on the grind |
Pop in the clip of my nine |
And bitch if you slip |
hit the chalk and fall in the night time |
Gotta get mine |
Ain’t taking no shorts or no losses |
Hop on the phone |
Call up my nigga, sittin' at home |
Polishin' that MAC-10 chrome |
Got a lick we can hit so bring yo shit |
'cause once again it’s on |
To the dome with a fifth of Bourb' |
my wig to the curb |
so we swerve and rolled out |
to pick up the triple six thug |
And follow the murder for robbing the dope-house |
Smoke up outta me bong so high, |
now comin' to slay |
with four grenades |
and a gauge I’m 'a play, |
watch all of 'em fall in the grave and lay |
Pullin' in the driveway, |
wish spotted the place and quickly rolled up |
Bulldozed through the living room |
Hopped out of the car and started to blow up |
Buck, buck, and a kaboom |
Me blew all them bodies all over the room |
Them doomed |
And gotta move fast, why? |
The po-po's comin' |
Snatch up me yummy |
So, nigga, don’t think it’s funny |
I’m comin' up quick in the nine-quat |
'cause Flesh be lovin' this money |
I’m given up love to the hustlers |
All them St. Clair thugstas |
makin' that money stayin' on your feet |
And you better believe gotta have that cheese |
For the green leaves, never catch me sleep |
Steady on the grind, get mine |
Stayin' down for mine crime, and I hit up the nine-nine |
Givin' up that yayo, makin' me sale, twenties nickles and dimes |
Beat up and stick up a lick up, that two-eleven |
Gotta get what’s mine, then bailin' |
Me kickin' up dust, I’m trailing |
Feeling one-eight-seven |
That’s how it is, and I gotsta have it in the nine-quat |
Mission to check a mill and still be real |
Thuggin' on the Glock-Glock, creeping on a come up |
Won’t sleep 'til I’m done up |
Gotta blaze me a blunt up, hunt up another plot and scheme |
Gotta make some green, 'cause soldiers nut up, what up? |
Gotta get that business on, even though the Buddha run me, stun me |
Feelin' lovely, but I’m just in it for the love of the money |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Standin' on the corner straight slangin' rocks |
Oh, shit! |
Here comes the motherfuckin' cops! |
So I dash, I ducks, and I hides behind a tree |
Makin' sure the motherfuckers don’t see me |
Now my fat sack of rocks hell yeah I stuffed 'em |
Police on my drawers, I had to pause |
And yeah, it’s still motherfuck 'em |
Now my game is tight, tight as fuck is my game |
Eazy-motherfucking-E or Eric Wright it’s all the same |
Now niggas might trip on how I stacks my grip |
I gotta have it bitch |
For the love of this shit |
Motherfucker! |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Gotta make that money, man |
It’s still the same now |
Been talking me thugsta, thuggish ways, down for my crime every time |
Follow me down the nine-nine, and you will find all of me kind |
Check out the ripsta, now, drop down |
Run 'em up outta me hood |
Rip’s straight when makin' me grip with me click |
Rollin' with Ruthless, the thug I be |
Me put 'em in mud, buck 'em, and pump blood |
Got nothing to lose, bitch |
You better respect rip, or you best just check this slug |
It’s goin' down steady pump and peel rounds, gunnin' with a me gang |
Bang, gotta make that money man |
It’s still the same |
Steady runnin' thing wild, and follow me now |
While I take you up into a barrel of a gun, see |
For the dub you’re done |
For the bud, I run, for the love of my money |
Gotta get down for my thing off in this thug game |
So peep as me creep and me crawlin' off on the mission to back in the days |
When niggas was bailin' with sawed-offs and wanted to get paid |
Runnin' to my side, little nigga Ripsta, both on the mission for money |
You give up the cash, oh, that was your ass |
'cause me and me nigga was hungry |
And bitch, if you’re stallin' you might just catch one to the temple |
And um, Bone raw doggin', so nigga just make this shit simple and run |
To catch one nigga me fill 'em with bullets and dump 'em in rivers |
Remember, me killer now |
For money, me dig you six feet in a ditch and get richer |
'cause, bitch, you were slippin' |
I’ll cut you, and rip you, then buck you down |
Steady robbin' and stealin' makin' a killin' |
Nigga drug-dealin', needing a million |
Hustlin' drugs when the thugs be chillin' |
For the money, these niggas be sellin' off in the cut |
Where you find a nigga thuggin' off in braids and skullies |
And when I stick you and lick you, remember |
I get 'em up for the love of the money |
Yeah, Bone in the motherfuckin' house for the nine-quats nigga |
Yeah, rollin' with Ruthless in this bitch |
My nigga Layzie Bone, Bizzy Bone, Wish Bone, And Flesh-n-Bone |
And I’m that nigga, Krayzie Bone, in the motherfuckin' house |