| Song | If You Want This Money |
| Artist | Diddy |
| Album | The Saga Continues |
| 作词 : Coleman, Gibson, Goss, Graham ... | |
| You are now entering a Bad Boy zone (3x) | |
| Yeah! | |
| [Morock] | |
| This is for the niggas who ain't got shit to love | |
| I cripple thugs, just because | |
| You not Jada but you could, kiss the slugs | |
| Until your place hit up | |
| Rap niggas in the studio, wasting bucks | |
| You're better off making sure papi know your name well | |
| Guess who ghostwrite for me, my brain sails/sells | |
| Now believe it, better place checks | |
| Bad Boy, big things nigga, HF | |
| [Classy Freddie Blassy] | |
| I put it down for mine, my crew live a life of crime | |
| Constantly non-stop, when they on the climb | |
| And BK, no such thing, it's dark | |
| The sun go down, the tool start to spark | |
| Outline in chalk, moms lift the part | |
| Cases handle in the street, motherfuck the court | |
| Shouldn't talk the talk, you can't walk the walk | |
| It's The Hoodfellaz, what the fuck y'all thought? | |
| [G. Dep - Chorus] | |
| Now if you want this money baby | |
| Then I guess you in the right place | |
| And if your mind ain't right sugar | |
| Then you need to get up outta my face | |
| So what's the deal? | |
| Cant' ya see how a nigga feel? | |
| And let me know if you gon' ride tonight | |
| Cause this paper we makin' is real, all day | |
| [Verse] | |
| It's like that y'all (that y'all) | |
| Don't get it twisted with the rap y'all (rap y'all) | |
| Still walk around with the gat y'all (gat y'all) | |
| Don't make me have to point it at y'all (at y'all) | |
| And clap y'all (clap y'all) | |
| That's how I see things goin' | |
| Chains showin', rings glowin', Range Rovin' | |
| And my nigga push ki's like Beethoven | |
| It's gonna stay like that till the pearly gates open | |
| [P. Diddy] | |
| And here we go {overlaps Verse's last line} | |
| Aiyyo, let's get it where it needs to be | |
| Tuned in to the, P-the-D, please believe | |
| I told y'all it's on for life | |
| The only bars I ever be behind is the one's I co-write | |
| Hold it down, hold the crown | |
| What I gotta brag for? Y'all should know by now | |
| Cats talk this and that, so we rip the track | |
| This a fact, it's a wrap, uh! | |
| (Chorus) | |
| [G. Dep] | |
| Yo, yo | |
| Niggas mad at the fact we bad | |
| Man I won't stop like a New York taxicab | |
| If your shit wack, we burn | |
| If you got beef, we come back like a tax return | |
| We get money, hold money, no quotas | |
| We gon' fuck around and do this murder, no motive | |
| Aiyyo, I burn more | |
| Wait till I drop it, then you can learn more (Why?) | |
| Cause you a turn-off | |
| [Poppa Sims] | |
| Numb in my veins | |
| And bought enough to numbin' the brain | |
| Lovin' the brain, let a slob till it's come and arrange | |
| Strollin' the block, honey holdin' the glock | |
| 1-9, come on baby, it's crunch time | |
| In a truck blue, yellin' my fuck you's | |
| Doin' a buck-2, circle hoods like Doug Ghouls | |
| Huggin' the piece, ha ha, Sim is the word on the street | |
| Come on, I can make dessert outta beef | |
| (Chorus - till fade) |
| zuò cí : Coleman, Gibson, Goss, Graham ... | |
| You are now entering a Bad Boy zone 3x | |
| Yeah! | |
| Morock | |
| This is for the niggas who ain' t got shit to love | |
| I cripple thugs, just because | |
| You not Jada but you could, kiss the slugs | |
| Until your place hit up | |
| Rap niggas in the studio, wasting bucks | |
| You' re better off making sure papi know your name well | |
| Guess who ghostwrite for me, my brain sails sells | |
| Now believe it, better place checks | |
| Bad Boy, big things nigga, HF | |
| Classy Freddie Blassy | |
| I put it down for mine, my crew live a life of crime | |
| Constantly nonstop, when they on the climb | |
| And BK, no such thing, it' s dark | |
| The sun go down, the tool start to spark | |
| Outline in chalk, moms lift the part | |
| Cases handle in the street, motherfuck the court | |
| Shouldn' t talk the talk, you can' t walk the walk | |
| It' s The Hoodfellaz, what the fuck y' all thought? | |
| G. Dep Chorus | |
| Now if you want this money baby | |
| Then I guess you in the right place | |
| And if your mind ain' t right sugar | |
| Then you need to get up outta my face | |
| So what' s the deal? | |
| Cant' ya see how a nigga feel? | |
| And let me know if you gon' ride tonight | |
| Cause this paper we makin' is real, all day | |
| Verse | |
| It' s like that y' all that y' all | |
| Don' t get it twisted with the rap y' all rap y' all | |
| Still walk around with the gat y' all gat y' all | |
| Don' t make me have to point it at y' all at y' all | |
| And clap y' all clap y' all | |
| That' s how I see things goin' | |
| Chains showin', rings glowin', Range Rovin' | |
| And my nigga push ki' s like Beethoven | |
| It' s gonna stay like that till the pearly gates open | |
| P. Diddy | |
| And here we go overlaps Verse' s last line | |
| Aiyyo, let' s get it where it needs to be | |
| Tuned in to the, PtheD, please believe | |
| I told y' all it' s on for life | |
| The only bars I ever be behind is the one' s I cowrite | |
| Hold it down, hold the crown | |
| What I gotta brag for? Y' all should know by now | |
| Cats talk this and that, so we rip the track | |
| This a fact, it' s a wrap, uh! | |
| Chorus | |
| G. Dep | |
| Yo, yo | |
| Niggas mad at the fact we bad | |
| Man I won' t stop like a New York taxicab | |
| If your shit wack, we burn | |
| If you got beef, we come back like a tax return | |
| We get money, hold money, no quotas | |
| We gon' fuck around and do this murder, no motive | |
| Aiyyo, I burn more | |
| Wait till I drop it, then you can learn more Why? | |
| Cause you a turnoff | |
| Poppa Sims | |
| Numb in my veins | |
| And bought enough to numbin' the brain | |
| Lovin' the brain, let a slob till it' s come and arrange | |
| Strollin' the block, honey holdin' the glock | |
| 19, come on baby, it' s crunch time | |
| In a truck blue, yellin' my fuck you' s | |
| Doin' a buck2, circle hoods like Doug Ghouls | |
| Huggin' the piece, ha ha, Sim is the word on the street | |
| Come on, I can make dessert outta beef | |
| Chorus till fade |