[Lyrics] Jay-Z – Money, Cash, Hoes (Ft DMX) Lyrics

Lyrics
Turn the lights all the way
Turn the lights all the way down
What? Yeah, come on, Big flow
Come on, yeah, come on
Yo, yo J-A-Y, I flow sick
Fuck all y’all haters, blow dick
I spits the game for those that throw bricks
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, chicks, what?
Sex murder and mayhem romance for the street
Only wife of mines is a life of crime
And since life’s a bitch in miniskirts and big chests
How can I not flirt with death
That’s life’s a nigga, long as life prevent us
We gonna sin a lot and pray to Christ, forgive us
Fuck it, ice the wrists and raise the price on these niggas
Y’all can’t floss on my level
I’ll invite you all to get wit’ us if ya ball is glitter
When I go all the Harlem playas wall my picture
If you get close enough, you can read the scripture
It reads “Money, cash, hoes”, how real was that nigga, what?
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (what?)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (uhh)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (come on)
Money, cash, hoes (what?) Hoes (what?) Hoes (what?)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (what?)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (uhh)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (come on)
Money, cash, hoes (what?) Hoes (what?) Hoes (what?)
Flavors robust, platinum and gold touch
Y’all rap now, fast money, let’s slow it up
Niggas try to stop Jay-Z to no luck
Roc-A-Fella forever CEO, what? What?
Us the villains, fuck your feelings
While y’all playa hate, we in the upper millions
What’s the dealing? Huh, it’s like New York’s been soft
Ever since Snoop came through and crushed the buildings
I’m tryin’ to restore the feelin’, fuck the law, keep dealin’
More money, more cash, more chilling
I know they gon’ criticize the hook on this song
Like I give a fuck, I’m just a crook on this song
Bed Stuy Brooknon took on the world
Shit, I led a life you can write a book on
Sex, murder, and mayhem, romance for the street
Man and I’ll tell ya, it’ll be the bestseller
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (what?)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (uhh)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (come on)
Money, cash, hoes (what?) Hoes (what?) Hoes (what?)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (what?)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (uhh)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (come on)
Money, cash, hoes (what?) Hoes (what?) Hoes (what?)
DMX and my dogs bite
Jigga, my nigga rhyme all night
Thugs for life, one night with this rap shit
Let ’em go and I bet they know what’ll happen
When we clap shit
Actin’ like we owe ’em somethin’
Then we show ’em somethin’
Talk greasy, I think they found ’em down the road or somethin’
Fuckin’ wit’ a madman in a bad mood
It’s like fuckin’ wit’ a mad dog that wasn’t fed food
The only thing that’s stoppin’ him is you, what?
‘Cause the only thing that he’ll be droppin’ is you, what?
Choppin’ in two
Drop it to Clue and the response from the street
This was one dog that loves raw meat
But gettin’ back to just ’cause I love my niggas
I shed blood for my niggas
Let a nigga holler “Where my niggas?”
All I’ma hear is, “Right here my nigga”, come on
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (what?)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (uhh)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (come on)
Money, cash, hoes (what?) Hoes (what?) Hoes (what?)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (what?)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (uhh)
Money, cash, hoes, money, cash, hoes (come on)
Money, cash, hoes (what?) Hoes (what?) Hoes (what?)
Roc-A-Fella shit, uh, uh
Ruff Ryders, my nigga Swizz
Uh, uh, uh, uh
Don’t stop, biatch
Uh, uh, uh, yeah
Respect the game, yo
Okay, okay, okay, so now the guy’s working for Jay-Z
Any problems? He can go to Jay-Z
Trouble writing a song? He can go to Jay-Z
Beef with his label? With other rappers?
He can call Jay-Z
But now the guy is gotta come up with Jay-Z’s money every week no matter what
Ain’t selling any records? Fuck you, pay me
Oh, you want me in your video? Fuck you, pay me
No one’s coming to your shows, huh? Fuck you, pay me
And then what do you do when you can’t borrow another dollar from the label?
You can’t sell the singles in the stores?
You light a match, you blow the joint