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