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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 bitch

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 nigga, Sin, at home, polishin` the MAC-1O chrome. Gotta lick



we can hit, so bring your shit, `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 nigga, 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, shit! Here

comes the muthafuckin` cops, so I dash, I duck, and I hides

behind a tree, makin` sure the muthafuckas 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 muthafuck `em. Now

my game is tight. Tight as fuck is my game.

Eazy-muthafuckin`-E or Eric Wright it`s all the same. Now, niggas

might trip on how I stacks my grip. I gotta have it, bitch.

for the love of this shit. Muthafucka!



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, bitch. 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:

Nigga 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 niggas was bailin` with sawed-offs and wanted to get paid.

Runnin` to my side, lil` nigga, Ripsta, both on the mission for



money. You give up the cash, oh, that was your ass, `cause me

and my nigga was hungry. And, bitch, if you`re stallin`, you



might just catch one to the temple, and um, Bone raw doggin`,

so nigga just make this shit simple and run. To catch one nigga,



me fill `em with bullets and dump `em in rivers. Remember: me

killa, now. For money, me dig ya six feet in a ditch and get



richer, `cause, bitch, you were slippin`. I`ll cut ya, then rip

ya, then buck ya down. Steady robbin` and stealin`, makin` a

killin`.

Nigga drugdealin`, needin` a million. Hustlin` drugs when the

thugs be chillin`. For the money, these niggas be sellin` off

in the

cut, where you find a nigga 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 muthafuckin` house for the nine-quats, nigga,

yeah, rollin` with Ruthless Records in this bitch. My niggas,



Layzie Bone, Bizzy Bone, Wish Bone, and Flesh-n-Bone. And I`m

that nigga, Krayzie Bone, in the muthafuckin` house.

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 bitch

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 nigga, Sin, at home, polishin` the MAC-1O chrome. Gotta lick



we can hit, so bring your shit, `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 nigga, 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, shit! Here

comes the muthafuckin` cops, so I dash, I duck, and I hides

behind a tree, makin` sure the muthafuckas 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 muthafuck `em. Now

my game is tight. Tight as fuck is my game.

Eazy-muthafuckin`-E or Eric Wright it`s all the same. Now, niggas

might trip on how I stacks my grip. I gotta have it, bitch.

for the love of this shit. Muthafucka!



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, bitch. 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:

Nigga 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 niggas was bailin` with sawed-offs and wanted to get paid.

Runnin` to my side, lil` nigga, Ripsta, both on the mission for



money. You give up the cash, oh, that was your ass, `cause me

and my nigga was hungry. And, bitch, if you`re stallin`, you



might just catch one to the temple, and um, Bone raw doggin`,

so nigga just make this shit simple and run. To catch one nigga,



me fill `em with bullets and dump `em in rivers. Remember: me

killa, now. For money, me dig ya six feet in a ditch and get



richer, `cause, bitch, you were slippin`. I`ll cut ya, then rip

ya, then buck ya down. Steady robbin` and stealin`, makin` a

killin`.

Nigga drugdealin`, needin` a million. Hustlin` drugs when the

thugs be chillin`. For the money, these niggas be sellin` off

in the

cut, where you find a nigga 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 muthafuckin` house for the nine-quats, nigga,

yeah, rollin` with Ruthless Records in this bitch. My niggas,



Layzie Bone, Bizzy Bone, Wish Bone, and Flesh-n-Bone. And I`m

that nigga, Krayzie Bone, in the muthafuckin` house.

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