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Warren G - What`s Love Got To Do With It

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Предложение действительно для Российских операторов.

* Intro Ooh, yeah, yeah.

What`s love got to do.

Warren G, rap for me, yeah-eah, yeah, mm mm.



* Verse 1 When G-dog, the hog, come up in the place,

There`s dollar signs in your eyes and a smile in your face.

You wanna live fat, all for my sack.

You got more drag than a low lo-do, cut the act,

`Cause back before `92 and `93,

You didn`t give a damn about Warren G,

But now that I`m slingin` platinum LP`s,

All of a sudden, you on my N.U.T`s.

Ain`t nothin` you can do to make it stop,

`Cause money makes the world go `round and the panties drop.

I ain`t in love though, I don`t need the pressure.

I just wanna dig it like I`m diggin` for treasure.

Some of y`all had a good thing that you couldn`t keep,

Thought you was TLC, you had to creep.

You say you had love, I said you need to quit.

It`s all about the dough, so what`s love got to do with it?



* Chorus What`s love got to do, got to do with it (that`s right)?

What`s love if you don`t respect the game (uh-huh)?

What`s love got to do, got to do with it?

If you lack in this game, it`s a shame, you won`t make it.



* Verse 2 Now, I`m the type of brother that`s down for mines.

Before I made beats, I was down to grind.

Back then, every single homey had my back,

Now they`re peepin` my stack and they`re talkin` bout jack,

But I`m the same brother day in and day out,

And I`m-a stay that way until the day I lay out in a casket.

It`s drastic, `cause homies is plastic.

Break `em off some bread, they want the whole damn basket.

If you`s a true homey, you would wish me well,

Not plot to see a brother fell, jealous as hell.

We used to get the same riches.

Now your trigger-finger got the itches, schemin` on my riches

Which is not a suprise, my eyes peep game,

211`s, 187`s it`s all the same.

It`s all a shame, homies`d jack you for your grip.

Ain`t no love involved, because it`s all about the chips.



* Repeat chorus



* Verse 3 Now for these labels tellin` fables,

Makin` the messed-up deals under the tables.

You think that you smart, but, fool, I`m the smartest.

You can`t make no money if you can`t keep an artist.

Sign the dotted line, put `em on the shelf.

Break `em off some crumbs, keep the rest for yourself.

I know how it goes, treat an artist like you know,

Fly cars, gold, clothes, but no dough.

Since it`s all business, I`m-a handle mine,

Keep track of my stack down to the very last dime,

`Cause in this rap game, it`s all about the buck.

You bend over for the label and you will get bucked,

Like how we run up in the skirt, and then you`re through.

The record label do the same thing to you.

90% business, 10% show.

Ain`t no love in this game, `cause it`s all about the dough.

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