Bone Thugs-n-harmony - Foe Tha Love Of $ lyrics

For the love of money. Gotta make that money, man. That money, man. It's still the same, now. [Flesh] Gotta get on the grind, pop in the clip of my nine, and b**h if you slip, You hit the chalk and fall in the nighttime. Gotta get mine, Ain't takin' no shorts or no losses. Hop on the phone, callin' my n***a, Sin, at home, Polishin' the MAC-1O chrome. Gotta lick we can hit, so bring your sh**, 'cause once again, it's on. To the dome with a fifth of (burb), my wig to the curb, so we swerve And rolled out to pick up the triple-six thug and follow the murder for robbin' the dopehouse. Smoke jump outta me bong, So high, now comin' to slay with four grenades and a gauge. I'm a play, watch all 'em fall in the grave and lay. Pullin' in the driveway, Wish spotted the place and quickly rolled up. Bulldozed through the living room, hopped out of the car, and started to blow up. Buck, buck, and a kabloom, me blew all them bodies all over the room. Them doomed. And gotta move fast, why? The po-po's comin'. Snatch up me yummy, so n***a, don't think it's funny. I'm comin' up quick in the nine-quat, 'cause Flesh be lovin' this money, this money. [Layzie] I'm givin' up love to the hustlas, all them St. Clair thugstas, Makin' that money, stayin' on your feet. And you better believe gotta have that cheese for the green leaves, never catch me sleep. Stay on the grind, get mine, stayin' down for my crime, And I hit up the nine nine, givin' up that 1lello, makin' me sale--twenties, Nickels and dimes. Beat up and stick up a lick up, that two-eleven, Gotta get what's mine, then bailin'. Me kickin' up dust, I'm trailin', feelin' one-eight-seven. That's how it is, and I gotsta have it in the nine-quat. Mission: to check a mill and still be real. Thuggin' on the glock-glock, creepin' on a come up, Won't sleep 'til I'm done up, gotta blaze me blunt up, Hunt up another plot and scheme, gotta make some green, Cause soldiers nut up. What up? Gotta get that business on, Even though the buddah run me, stun me, feelin' lovely, But I'm just in it for the love of the money. For the love of money. Gotta make that money, man. That money, man. It's still the same, now. [Eazy-E] Standin' on the corner, straight slangin' rocks. Aw, sh**! Here comes the muthaf**in' cops, so I dash, I duck, And I hides behind a tree, makin' sure the muthaf**as don't see me. Now my fat sack of rocks--hell, yeah, I stuffed 'em. Police on my draws. I had to pause, and yeah, it's still muthaf** 'em. Now my game is tight. Tight as f** is my game. Eazy-muthaf**in'-E or Eric Wright it's all the same. Now, n***as might trip on how I stacks my grip. I gotta have it, b**h. For the love of this sh**. motherf**er! Gotta make that money, man. That money, man. It's still the same, now. [Bizzy] When dough got me thugsta, thuggish ways, down for my crime everytime. Follow me down the nine nine, and you will find all Of me kind. Check out the Ripsta, now, drop down. Run 'em up outta me hood. Rip's straight when I'm makin' me grip with a Me click, rollin' with Ruthless, the thug I be. Me put 'em in mud, buck 'em, and pump blood. Got nothin' to lose, b**h. Ya Better respect Rip, or ya best just check this slug. It's goin' down, steady pump and peel rounds, gunnin' with a me gang. Bang. Gotta make that money, man. It's still the same, steady runnin' thangs wild. And follow me now, while I take ya up into A barrel of a gun, see. For the dub, you're done. For the bud, I run, for the love of my money. [Krayzie] n***a down for my thang off in this thug game. So peep as me creep and me crawlin' off on the mission to back in the days When n***as was bailin' with sawed-offs and wanted to get paid. Runnin' to my side, lil' n***a, Ripsta, both on the mission for Money. You give up the cash, oh, that was your a**, Cause me and my n***a was hungry. And, b**h, if you're stallin', You might just catch one to the temple, and um, Bone raw doggin', So n***a just make this sh** simple and run. To catch one n***a, Me fill 'em with bullets and dump 'em in rivers. Remember, me k**a, now. For money, me dig ya six feet in a ditch and get richer, Cause, b**h, you were slippin'. I'll cut ya, then rip ya, then buck ya down. Steady robbin' and stealin', makin' a k**in'. n***a drugdealin', needin' a million. Hustlin' d** when the thugs be chillin'. For the money, these n***as be sellin' off in the cut, Where you find a n***a thuggin' off in braids and skullies, And when I stick ya and lick ya, remember I get 'em up for the love of money. For the love of money. [Krayzie] Yeah, Bone in the muthaf**in' house for the nine-quats, n***a, Yeah, rollin' with Ruthless Records in this b**h. My n***as, Layzie Bone, Bizzy Bone, Wish Bone, and Flesh-n-Bone. And I'm that n***a, Krayzie Bone, in the muthaf**in' house.