I heard a rumor in the street, motherf*cker 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 motherf*cker 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 motherf*cker acquitted
Never for foul snitches, but those who style riches
Ghetto crack sellin' pros and buckwild bitches
First thing they want to 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"
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
They call me money-earner, received more blows than Tina Turner
Like the top of the stove sauce keep a burner
Release something 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
Nothing 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
Motherf*cker 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 'til 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
Sauce Money - Love & War Lyrics
Sauce Money - Love & War Lyrics
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I heard a rumor in the street, motherf*cker 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 motherf*cker 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 motherf*cker acquitted
Never for foul snitches, but those who style riches
Ghetto crack sellin' pros and buckwild bitches
First thing they want to 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"
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
They call me money-earner, received more blows than Tina Turner
Like the top of the stove sauce keep a burner
Release something 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
Nothing 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
Motherf*cker 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 'til 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
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 motherf*cker 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 motherf*cker acquitted
Never for foul snitches, but those who style riches
Ghetto crack sellin' pros and buckwild bitches
First thing they want to 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"
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
They call me money-earner, received more blows than Tina Turner
Like the top of the stove sauce keep a burner
Release something 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
Nothing 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
Motherf*cker 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 'til 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
Writer: Omonte Ward, Todd Eric Gaither
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group