Tekster: Sauce Money. Love & War.

I heard a rumor in the street, muthafucka was gifted
Up and comin' nigga might need to get with
One cat from BK, put him on your hit list
Sauce Money, fat nigga rip shit

Heard him on a clue? Tape loved the way he kicked it
All of a sudden mad labels on his dick
But muthafuckas who bit it but couldn't fight it forget it
Couldn't write it or spit it 'cause they couldn't fuck with it

Then the Puff shit happened, the whole shit shifted
Tribute to Biggie, God bless your spirit
Made a mark, now we need a place for the nigga
Marcy son, faced off with Jigga

Now he only spittin' for cars that's kitted
Convicted felons and muthafuckas acquitted
Never for foul snitches but those who style riches
Ghetto crack sellin' pros and buck-wild bitches

First thing they wanna know, 'What's fuckin' with this shit?'
Jay-Z told 'em, look how many he sold 'em
'99's my time to shine and control 'em
Spread ones with sons, guns, I still hold 'em

Fuck the law, this is what's in store
When the album drop, we gon' rush the floor
I tell 'em hit it, every song, come on, we all spit it
Get on with it, with all my niggas screamin', 'We did it'

Love and war, thugs and whores
Nickel-plated nines, three-pound-sevens and four-fours
We about to flow, blow, stack dough
On the low, forever shine, niggas better know

They call me money-earner, received more blows than Tina Turner
Like the top of the stove, Sauce keep a burner
Release somethin' that'll heat your sternum
Flow the sickest, take a AIDS patient a whole week to learn 'em

So precise, got beef with surgeons
Feel naked without profanity, every sentence keep a curse in
Nothin' is bound to touchin' my sound
The consensus in the street, he ain't fuckin' around

Got a lot of shit to pop two things when it drop
Muthafuckas gonna cop and niggas will get shot
But this is just for the record, though
Niggas will get naked slow

If your heat cocked, check it, yo
No shit, squeeze till your hammer go click
Fuck these lame-brawl MC's, they all blow dick
I'm the capital S A U C E
Better clap at the best way when you see me, nigga

Love and war, thugs and whores
Nickel-plated nines, three-pound-sevens and four-fours
We about to flow, blow, stack dough
On the low, forever shine, niggas better know