Текст песни Lil' Kim - Money Talks

Just Tim-baland, and Lil' Kim (na na nahh-nah)
Just Tim-baland, and Lil' Kim (uh, uh-huh, what)
Just Tim-baland, and Lil' Kim (na na nahh-nah)
Just Tim-baland, and Lil' Kim (uh, uh-huh, what)

Yo, yo yo yo, this joint is strictly for heavyweighters
not them playa haters, knahmsayin?
Cause in the Commission, you ask for permission to hit em, uhh

Verse One: Lil' Kim

My man Blake flew me to the Erie Lake
Introduced me to this heavyweighter, called hisself Drake
First mistake, Jesus piece was fake
But wait, he got singles in his cake, I ain't fuckin with him
Number one rule, always keep your cool, even though
you ain't a fool, and you see right through the nigga, how he figure?
If he holdin less than six
He gonna get the seven digits or visit, numbers in my Wizard?
Duke ain't even worth the space
Glass shoes and igloos put him dead in his place
Damn Blake, can't tell this cat is a snake?
I got 20/20 vision (uhh) funny money vision (uh-huh)
No dough, no show, dodo, that's a no-no
Just some famous words from the late Frank White
I blink right, if your bank tight
Duke wanted me to work for him, even flirt for him
Wear a short skirt for him, he don't know
I'ma end up hurtin him at the end of the day
Shit, I got bills to pay, and it ain't my fault
If money talk and bullshit walk, round one

Chorus: Andrea Martin

I'm in love wit ta mon, nearly twice my age
I want to give it up anyway, because it more pay
More time, more money, have it your way
(repeat 2X)

Know de money and the lovin is my style
Me a forget it tonight

Verse Two: Lil' Kim

Mmm... uhh, UHH, uhh, uhh
The play starts at 8:00, let's hit the venue
Invited his man, and some bitch named Kendall
Tried to style on em, shoes with the crocadile on em
But the nigga still was corny, he bore me
His preference was more sorta like soccer
Me, I do operas with the Mali and the vodka
out in Cali gettin proper, and I, betcha fifty
My whole commitee stay shitty ask Smitty with the Desert E's
One glance at the Benz-y make ya freeze
Please, I got a mil on these, whatchu talkin? I...
hate this nigga in the worst way
And I didn't wanna be here in the first place
But uhh, It's just vendetta for my man
Do anything for the fam, I'ma go along with the plan
Tryin hard not to throw him off
And I know he soft, when I cough, it's to cover up a lie
and the lie keep me full of empathy
So when I shit on this nigga, he gon' still pamper me
I see, this nigga ain't about nuttin, cause he keep frontin
He must be up to somethin, round em up, here I come
Uhhh

Chorus

Verse Three: Lil' Kim, Trife, Lil' Cease

As the evening winds down, I'm making sure
that my milli got rounds, plane ticket back to town, now
I picked the place, Umberto's of course it's
Italian where they confiscate, burners in they office
Metamorphis anywhere, any year, who dare
They the mob and they don't care, and I swear, while I'm
contemplatin thinkin about later
Here come the waiter with the phone in the tray, anyways
"Is there a Queen in the house?" How could he say this out his mouth?
I'm the only black chick with diamonds this thick, hopin
it's my nigga Blake C.
Cause sometimes these cat's like to fool you

Check it, let me school you
Remember when I said those niggaz robbed Leo
Rolled on him, stuck him up in the black Geo
They was creole, used to be a tight trio
Til one fled with the dough, what's his name? (Rio!)

I was a girlie lover, smooth undercover
Played they hoes in tight clothes like they was no other
Dumbin like the Jungle Brothers, til they caught me for my gems
All I'm sayin is what he did to me, do it to him, is you straight?

[Lil' Kim]
You late, duct tape and cable rope
Once I wrap it round his throat it's all she wrote, uhhhwha (oh oh)