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Sauce Money - Love and War Lyrics




[VERSE 1]
I heard a rumor in the street, muthaf*cka was gifted
Up and comin nigga, might need to get with
One cat from BK, put him on your hitlist
Sauce Money, fat nigga rip shit
Heard him on a Clue? tape, loved the way he kicked it
All of a sudden mad labels on his dick
But muthaf*ckas who bit it but couldn't fight it forget it
Couldn't write it or spit it cause they couldn't f*ck with it
Then the Puff shit happened, the whole shit shifted
Tribute to Biggie, God bless your spirit
Made a mark, now we need a place for the nigga
Marcy, son - faced off with Jigga
Now he only spittin for cars that's kitted
Convicted felons and muthaf*ckas acquitted
Never for foul snitches, but those who style riches
Ghetto crack sellin pros and buckwild bitches
First thing they wanna know: what's f*ckin with this shit?
Jay-Z told em, look how many he sold em
'99's my time to shine and control em
Spread ones with sons, guns, I still hold em
F*ck the law, this is what's in store
When the album drop, we gon' rush the floor
I tell em hit it, every song, come on, we all spit it
Get on with it, with all my niggas screamin, "We did it"

[CHORUS]
Love and war, thugs and whores
Nickel-plated nines, three-pound-sevens and four-fours
We about to flow, blow, stack dough
On the low, forever shine, niggas better know

[VERSE 2]
They call me money-earner, received more blows than Tina Turner
Like the top of the stove Sauce keep a burner
Release somethin that'll heat your sternum
Flow the sickest, take a AIDS patient a whole week to learn em
So precise, got beef with surgeons
Feel naked without profanity, every sentence keep a curse in
Nothin is bound to touchin my sound
The consensus in the street: he ain't f*ckin around
Got a lot of shit to pop, two things when it drop:
Muthaf*ckas gonna cop and niggas will get shot
But this is just for the record, though
Niggas will get naked slow
If your heat cocked, check it, yo
No shit, squeeze till your hammer go click
F*ck these lame-brawl MC's, they all blow dick
I'm the capital S-a-u-c-e
Better clap at the best way when you see me
Nigga

[CHORUS]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




[VERSE 1]
I heard a rumor in the street, muthaf*cka was gifted
Up and comin nigga, might need to get with
One cat from BK, put him on your hitlist
Sauce Money, fat nigga rip shit
Heard him on a Clue? tape, loved the way he kicked it
All of a sudden mad labels on his dick
But muthaf*ckas who bit it but couldn't fight it forget it
Couldn't write it or spit it cause they couldn't f*ck with it
Then the Puff shit happened, the whole shit shifted
Tribute to Biggie, God bless your spirit
Made a mark, now we need a place for the nigga
Marcy, son - faced off with Jigga
Now he only spittin for cars that's kitted
Convicted felons and muthaf*ckas acquitted
Never for foul snitches, but those who style riches
Ghetto crack sellin pros and buckwild bitches
First thing they wanna know: what's f*ckin with this shit?
Jay-Z told em, look how many he sold em
'99's my time to shine and control em
Spread ones with sons, guns, I still hold em
F*ck the law, this is what's in store
When the album drop, we gon' rush the floor
I tell em hit it, every song, come on, we all spit it
Get on with it, with all my niggas screamin, "We did it"

[CHORUS]
Love and war, thugs and whores
Nickel-plated nines, three-pound-sevens and four-fours
We about to flow, blow, stack dough
On the low, forever shine, niggas better know

[VERSE 2]
They call me money-earner, received more blows than Tina Turner
Like the top of the stove Sauce keep a burner
Release somethin that'll heat your sternum
Flow the sickest, take a AIDS patient a whole week to learn em
So precise, got beef with surgeons
Feel naked without profanity, every sentence keep a curse in
Nothin is bound to touchin my sound
The consensus in the street: he ain't f*ckin around
Got a lot of shit to pop, two things when it drop:
Muthaf*ckas gonna cop and niggas will get shot
But this is just for the record, though
Niggas will get naked slow
If your heat cocked, check it, yo
No shit, squeeze till your hammer go click
F*ck these lame-brawl MC's, they all blow dick
I'm the capital S-a-u-c-e
Better clap at the best way when you see me
Nigga

[CHORUS]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: OMONTE WARD, TODD ERIC GAITHER
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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