Testo Cash Over Ass - Ice Cube
Testo della canzone Cash Over Ass (Ice Cube), tratta dall'album War & Peace, Vol. 1 (The War Disc)
What's up Cube dog?
I got this bitch-ass nigga right here
Ya know, fuckin' with this tramp-ass bitch
Puttin' her before the scrill' all the time, ya know what I'm sayin'?
Man I got this nigga transcripts and every-motherfuckin'-thing
Tellin' this bitch all my motherfuckin' business
Puttin' ass over cash everyday
Nigga fuck that, this West side
Be gone you fuckin' peon, got the Don furious
Talkin' on the phone got the Federal curious
I'm serious! I don't give a fuck where he is
Snatch him out the factory, bring his ass back to me
How the fuck you think I got the name Bossalini? (Punk)
Mack God Rap Genie, you can't see me
Up in this game ever since you was a lame
Y'all train at my school, nigga I rule
You never make me holla, smokin' on a 15 dolla'
From across the water, watch your daughter
She might catch the Holy Ghost from this rap sermon
While you vermin smokin' Sherman, I'm rollin' somethin' German, bitch
Money earnin' makin' mo' money (ching ching)
Enemies look so funny, with they clothes bummy
Don't need no honey, that's right
'Cause I'm thinkin' with my big head, fuck what my dick said! (Fuck)
We puttin' cash over ass, each and every day
Go on let the players play (but the hustlers)
(We some money makin' motherfuckers, I know that you love us!)
We puttin' cash over ass, each and every day
Go on let the players play (but the hustlers)
(We some money makin' motherfuckers, I know that you love us!)
Now, who's that nigga got these bitches lookin' silly? (Me)
I'm the Big Willie for rilly, the real dilly
You can ask Phillie 'cause I got a year's supply (yup!)
You must want to die, don't get the lye
After dark up at Griffith Park, shallow grave
For the mark check his heart, the game about to start
Big things automatic pu-tang (automatic)
Keep your mind off them bitches, eyes on your riches
If it twitches give it stitches
If it jiggles or switches, fuck and take pictures, now
I'm livin' in a two-point zone, and I'm still bumpin'
Call me in the clutch, ain't lost my touch
Nigga what? On the microphone
If I drove it in the video, bitch, I can drive it home
Tight as a Corleone
You got to get your own, baby get on, now
We puttin' cash over ass, each and every motherfuckin' day
Go on let the players play (but the hustlers)
(We some money makin' motherfuckers, I know that you love us!)
We puttin' cash over ass, each and every day
Go on let them players play (but the hustlers)
(We some money makin' motherfuckers, I know that you love us!)
Get your ass up and go to work, 'cause you know
On payday, nigga that shit gon' hurt
Fuckin' with a skirt instead of handlin' your business
Rich dude, now you got to make three wishes
I'm suspicious, of any motherfucker puttin' fuck over finance
'Specially fuckin' up my plans
I'm the boss, I can be late
But you'll never see her and me, over currency
Givin' you the third degree, 'cause you got
Too many broke bitches in your life bankin' for a penny
Stop fuckin' on them dumb-dumbs
Find one with some ass and some income
Who want to win? (Me!) who want to spin? (Me!)
Who want to make (me!), 25 eight? (me)
Ice Cube the great (Ice Cube the great!), pushin' rhymes like weight (whatchu got?!)
We puttin' cash over ass, each and every goddamn day
Go on let the players play (but the hustlers)
(We some money makin' motherfuckers, I know that you love us!)
We puttin' cash over ass, each and every day
Go ahead and let the players play (but the hustlers)
(We some money makin' motherfuckers, I know that you love us!)
We puttin' cash over ass, each and every day
Go on let the players play (but the hustlers)
(We some money makin' motherfuckers, I know, I know that you love us!)
We puttin' cash over ass, each and every day
Go on let the players play (but the hustlers)
(We some money makin' motherfuckers, I know that you love us! I know, I know)
Never put that hoe in front of that dough nigga
Never (for what?) Fuck a bitch nigga
For what? She ain't gon' love you if you ain't got no dough fool
Yeah nigga you better gotta come up
Scrilla scrilla y'all (never ass over cash nigga)
Scrilla scrilla y'all (we greedy)
Cha-ching (she can push some CD's, push some keys)
Cha-ching (ha ha ha, make the bitches shake they tit-ties)
Cha-ching, cha-ching (over money)
Cha-ching, cha-ching (never ass over cash)
Never ass over cash
Credits
Writer(s): O'shea Jackson, Ryan Garner, Lionel Jr. Hunt
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