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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Memphis Bleek
Memphis Bleek
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kasseem Dean
Kasseem Dean
Songwriter
Earl Simmons
Earl Simmons
Songwriter
Shawn Carter
Shawn Carter
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kasseem Dean
Kasseem Dean
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Turn the lights even lower
Hova, Memphis Bleek
Beanie Sigel
Jigga, my *****, rhyme all night
[Verse 2]
To the top with my ****, pop with my ****
Drive by in whips, rock rocks with my ****
Break day on the hottest block with my ****
Just 'cause I love my **** (Uh huh)
Chill with the crew, real with the crew
Four million sold, look, still with the crew
Break bread with the fam till I'm dead with the fam
Duck cops, shake feds with the fam
Flip the pies with my hustlers, ride for my hustlers
Die for my, lie for my, cry for my hustlers
Roll with my duns, cold with the guns
If you slow with my ones, hit the floor when I come
I **** with them hoes that **** with them clothes
That's real with them shoes, keep it real with they dudes
I'm sick with the flow and this is all I know
[Verse 3]
More money, more cash, more ****
More money, more cash, more **** (What?)
More money, more cash, more **** (Uh)
More money, more cash, more **** (Come on)
More money, more cash, more **** (What? What? What?)
[Verse 4]
Ay, yo, M-E-M-P-H-I-S Bleek
No need to dress warm, I brought plenty of heat
Y'all can't do nothing with this here
For one, I pack three 9's like the year
Y'all funny-money hustlers, seven-gram hustlers
Type to bust a O down with your man hustlers
I hold bank dough, no six-five-four
Why you ho talk that, look for a walk, though
Petty crime ******, petty time ******
Sold petty drugs, came up with petty thugs
Now you got game in you, wanna be a menace
And you got Caine in you, I'll put them things in you
I'm a hot lil ****, I ain't gotta tell ****
You came too deep, one fell ****
I'm layin' in the cut, but still don't give a ****
Roc-A-Fella forever, Memph' Man, what-what?
[Verse 5]
More money, more cash, more **** (What?)
More money, more cash, more **** (Uh)
More money, more cash, more **** (Come on)
More money, more cash, more **** (What? What? What?)
More money, more cash, more **** (What?)
More money, more cash, more **** (Uh)
More money, more cash, more **** (Come on)
More money, more cash, more **** (What? What? What?)
[Verse 6]
Peep the kid from P-H-I-L-L-Y
North, West, Southwest, Southside
Spit it for them **** and them **** who stay fly
B-Mack, Roc-A-Fella till I die
Met JAY, dropped on a album in a week
Without Unsigned Hype or Battle of the Beats
The first time a **** heard me spit it in the streets
I gave y'all a "1000 Bars" with Memphis Bleek
Stay strapped, heat in the car, under the seat
Six hammers even though we only three deep
We clap up ****, smack up ****
Duct tape, rope and wrap up ****
Think **** a joke? Go 'head, crack up, ****
Get treated like Coke and get capped up, *****
The only thing funny is y'all never seen big-face money
Until them big-face twenties
[Verse 7]
More money, more cash, more **** (What?)
More money, more cash, more **** (Uh)
More money, more cash, more **** (Come on)
More money, more cash, more **** (What? What? What?)
More money, more cash, more **** (What?)
More money, more cash, more **** (Uh)
More money, more cash, more **** (Come on)
More money, more cash, more **** (What? What? What?)
[Verse 8]
Roc-A-Fella
1999, uh-huh
You about to witness a dynasty (You are not ready)
Unlike no other
Get down and lay down
Ya heard? No publishin' for you ****
I know y'all **** is wonderin' like
"When them **** gon' stop?"
We got a date for you
Nevuary 31st, Nineteen-Neverty
I know y'all **** try to kill yourself too
Just go 'head and do it
Jump off a building
Slit your wrists
Just do it, the world'll be a better place
Written by: DMX, JAY-Z, Kasseem Dean

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