Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song I Love The Dough , by - The Notorious B.I.G.. Release date: 03.03.1997
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
I Love The Dough |
| 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 |
| 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 |
| 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! |
| I love the dough, more than you know |
| Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey |
| 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 |
| I love the dough, more than you know |
| Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey |