I Love the Dough

Lyrics

[Skit] Y'all faggot ass niggas, y'all don't know how to get down I love the dough, nigga (Baby!) Yeah, yeah, get out of here with that bullshit, nigga That's nothing, that's nothing, that's nothing, that's nothing Y'all already know the bank, nigga – ah! (Watch his face) Faggot ass nigga, pass the chronic, nigga, you talking all that bullshit (Yo, watch his face!) A hundred I fall better, a hundred I fall better Hundred I do? Hundred I do? (200!) It's a bet 200? (200) 200? (200) (Aces, aces) Can I get a bet on the five or better? Can I get a bet on the five or better? Five or better? What you got? What you got? I got a C Nigga, you–you a–whewww-hoo! Brooklyn style, baby! Scared money don't make money Brooklyn style! (Watch his face!) Ahh!!! [Intro: JAY-Z] Uhh, uhh Uhh, uhh, uhh, uhh, what Hah, what, how real is this? Uhh, uhh, how real is this? What? Uhh, what? Uhh [Verse 1: 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 shakin' they saditty ass And Prada 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 paisan 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' Tyson Same night, same fight But one of us cats ain't playin' right, I'll 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 favor Idalis And rack up frequent flight 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 2: The 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 CDs and the best tapes Don't forget the vinyl; take girls, break spinals Biggie be Richie like Lionel, shit You seen the Jesús dipped, two H classes Ice project off lights, chick flashes Blind your broke asses Even got rocks in the beards and mustaches; rock top fashions Ain't shit changed, 'cept the number after the dot on the Range Way niggas look at me now, kinda strange I hate y'all too Rather be in Caribbean sands with Rachel It's unreal, out the blue, Frank White got sex appeal Bitches used to go, "Ewww!" Still tote steel, I'm tryin' to see five mill' off the single, for real You ain't fazin' the amazin' While your gun's raisin', mine is blazin' See you wan' see me all talkin' to sweetness Take it for weakness and leave quick Blocka, Roc-A-Fella, Bad Boy collabo Two MCs with mad dough, you know [Chorus: Angela Winbush] I love the dough, more than you know Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey (I love the dough) I love the dough, more than you know (Gonna let it show) Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey [Verse 3: JAY-Z] Miraculous, pockets stay full Niggas skip the bullm 'cause we matadors Snatch the P89s that we pack in the drawers And we clap the doors of your Acuras Snap like, cameras on amateurs Make you all dance, hold a hammer to yours Jig and Big rock ice, no cracks or flaws Everybody 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 adapt you 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 [Verse 4: The Notorious B.I.G.] 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 and horseback Ridin', decidin' cracked crab or lobster (Uh-huh) Who say mobsters don't prosper? Niggas is actors, niggas deserve Oscars Me, I'm – critically acclaimed (Uh-huh) Slug pass your brain Reminisce on dames whose coochie used to stink When we'd rock house pieces and puffy Gucci links Now we buy homes in unfamiliar places Tito smile every time he see our faces Cases, catch more than outfielders Half these rappin' cats ain't seen war Couldn't score if they had point game, they lame Speak my name, I'll make 'em Dash like Dame (We love the dough...) [Chorus: Angela Winbush] I love the dough, more than you know (Gonna let it show) Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey I love the dough, more than you know (Gonna let it show) Gotta let it show, I love the dough, hey I love the dough, more than you know (Ah yeah) 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