(feat. Solomon Childs, Suga Bang Bang, Timbo King)



[Cappadonna]

Uh-huh, ye-yeah, it's like this

If you got big dollars, Spit That G

KnowwhatImean? If you got mad honies, Spit That G

If you gettin dough or whatever

Whips, phats cars, new kicks, Spit That G

This is how we do it

Word up, it's like this, check it out

Check it out, yo



[Chorus: Cappadonna (all)]

If you got ladies (Spit That G)

If you got endo (Spit That G)

If you got currency (Spit That G)

W.T.C. (Spit That G)

Say Spit That G (Spit That G)

Say Spit That G (Spit That G)

More sex and money make the world go round

Dumb Diddy snatch ya chick up, hit the floor now



[Solomon Childs]

Want money? I need bodyguards, as big as stiff worker, R.C.

Me mega-poverty, New York City, dollar signs prevail

Five place love, exclusive, nine millimeters

My voice box run through tracks like wild cheetahs

Champagne and catfish at the club, Geda's

Janet Jackson figures, I'm on now

Gucci sweaters for all of my niggaz

Calm braided, chrome rims

Ghetto birds with pink Timb's

A box of shells for the Cola for Kim's

Sponsored by the Clan, see

Pop more vanilla cherry than Luke Perry

Now tell me this ain't the thug life



[Hook x2: Suga Bang Bang]

Talkin bout the good life

Livin in da ghetto, wild



[12 O'Clock]

What happened to the fist fights, the MC battles, nigga?

Slingin newspapers on the Verrazano Narrow

Gettin off the fifth train on Carol to get wet

Summertime sweat got me rockin short sets

From the loaf tops, no socks, Hawaiian suits

Tied nicely with the wooden spoon for the scoop

Young girls playin double Dutch and hoola-hoops

Cap'n Crunch and Fruit Loops, camels and goose boots

It was the FUBU, the stripped Lee's, the Hoopty's

Five dollar bag of weed's a real bag of weed

A ki was at twenty g's, hurled one at dope fiends

O.D., niggaz throwin bricks at my click

Now Giulianni got the state N.Y. locked like cuff

Black Bad Boys gettin rich like Puff

The Excursion truck need two spots on the parkin lot

A stash box for the top, the lock



[Prodical]

Brook-nam, grace and charm, remain calm with chron's of Lebanon

Black man author, green Leprechaun from Lexington

P. Sunn, I crack ya face with the gun

Smack the taste outta ya dunn, ya fam's on the run

Now y'all respect Sunn, shine all type direction

Hype discretion with the right connection, recitin lessons

But my wea-pon reign automatic projection

Blow out ya reception, hose through ya reflection

Old gold complexion, Sunn I'll swoll to perfection

Did a fifteen, me and my team, supreme legends

Twenty-one-two, I get that money with the Wu

Up in the Cayman Islands, bitches sweeter than honey dew



[Hook x4]



[Interlude: Prodical (Timbo King)]

Eh-yo, let's talk about it (Let's talk about it)

Eh-yo, we be about it, be about it

Yo, we be about it (Killa Beez)

We all about it, yo we all about it

We all about it, we be about it

Killa Beez, yo we all about it



[Timbo King]

Yo I slap money for the love of rap money

Rock gully, high cop that bag of bomb

This grown man talk, I could bag ya mom

Watch and learn, block got lots of germ

Straight like that, bake cake, ate like that

Love to kill, I just hate like that

Yo these guns yap bodies on it, ain't nobody want it

Wide body six-hundred, brand new papers on it

Front roast up, corner thugs roast up

Mix the black with green, watch me mack the scene

As a matter of fact, them caps gon' bang

Brook-lawn pack those things, crack/cocaine



[Chorus]



[Hook x2]