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Sauce Money

Face Off 2000

  hip-hop  rap  hiphop  terror squad  new york
211,00 прямо сейчас

Текст песни Sauce Money - Face Off 2000

Sauce Money - Face Off 2000 слова песни




Intro: 2000, and it goes like. (uh huh, yeah yeah)Chorus: this goes out to my brooklyn crewLay my game flat, what you wanna doTalk all night, are we gonna screw? Im talking bout me and youVerse one: sauce moneyI like to push up on chicks like its the last recordTake em to the telly get buck passed nakedLet em feel the power, lick em if it dont taste sourHit em in the shower for an hourGive em that feeling, sauce money for real andLet her get on top if theres mirrors on the ceilingHit her so right that she wanna throw riceMy device makes her say "damn, that niggas nice!"Know I got wifey lay my cards when I pivotPass your seven digits if youre with itSauce wanna give you the option for the boot knockinNine times outta ten its on and poppinAint no stopping victorys in the airBring a friend next time lets do it againBring your whole crew if you see through meAnd we can meet on the bqeAnd it goes likeChorus (2x)Verse two: sauce money, jay-zSauce money:Had this bitch bragging,Sauce had his tongue between my thighs lally-gaggin;Huh, could you imagineShaking your tail just like a dragon here comes my worse flameIn the morning hot 97 the first thing(deny it) hell yeah yall dont buy itI dont eat no kind of fish if you cant fry itBut who knows maybe one day Ill try itBut for now slow down too much lip is killin your dietJay-z:Can I get it what - get it wetWhen he hit it first can I get it next, shit you the bestIt aint wack to be with both of us, mami actuallyIm eddie kane jr., that nigga me!You want me to feel what he feel when its tightAnd I know, he dont be doing it rightBut it gets no liver than this, never lie on our dicksShit, we got niggas rides on our wristsPlay your cards right youll be driving the 6Shopping all day hoppin out in the dist.Popping the crist., shit hoppin outta your wristPopping your shit, new yorks hottest bitch>from the ghetto to the stillettosBut you gotta do it two times like an echo, yall feelin thatThis is how we run it down the lineNigga sauce goes first jigga next to rhymeChorus (2x)Verse three: jay-z, sauce moneyJay-zI see you got a lot to get off your chestCoat, blouse, bra-dont talk me to deathLike murders on your mind mami, off the dressJigga ran game til I lost my breathSauce moneyLast thing I need to know is what it costs for sexWhat you need to know is if I lost respectDont have to worry if you do sauce correctIma bless that, bring my whole crew through, dont even sweat thatJay-z: uh, dime pieces Im hittinSauce money: four in the morning frosted flakes in your kitchenJay-z: now you want me to start trickin I supposeSauce money: thats when the first face off kicks in-"we dont love these hoes!"Chorus (2x)

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