Face Off 2000

Chorus: this goes out to my brooklyn crew

Lay my game flat, what you wanna do

Talk all night, are we gonna screw?

I'm talking 'bout me and you

Verse one: sauce money

I like to push up on chicks like it's the last record

Take 'em to the telly get buck passed naked

Let 'em feel the power, lick 'em if it don't taste sour

Hit 'em in the shower for an hour

Give 'em that feeling, sauce money for real and

Let her get on top if there's mirrors on the ceiling

Hit her so right that she wanna throw rice

My device makes her say damn, that nigga's nice!

Know I got wifey lay my cards when I pivot

Pass your seven digits if you're with it

Sauce wanna give you the option for the boot knockin'

Nine times outta ten it's on and poppin'

Ain't no stopping victory's in the air

Bring a friend next time let's do it again

Bring your whole crew if you see through me

And we can meet on the bqe

And it goes like

Chorus (2x)

Verse two: sauce money, jay-z

Sauce money:

Had this bitch bragging,

Sauce had his tongue between my thighs lally-gaggin;

Huh, could you imagine

Shaking your tail just like a dragon here comes my worse flame

In the morning hot 97 the first thing

(deny it) hell yeah y'all don't buy it

I don't eat no kind of fish if you can't fry it

But who knows maybe one day I'll try it

But for now slow down too much lip is killin' your diet

Jay-z:

Can I get it what - get it wet

When he hit it first can I get it next, shit you the best

It ain't wack to be with both of us, mami actually

I'm eddie kane jr., that nigga me!

You want me to feel what he feel when it's tight

And I know, he don't be doing it right

But it gets no liver than this, never lie on our dicks

Shit, we got nigga's rides on our wrists

Play your cards right you'll be driving the 6

Shopping all day hoppin' out in the dist.

Popping the crist., shit hoppin' outta your wrist

Popping your shit, new york's hottest bitch

>from the ghetto to the stilletto's

But you gotta do it two times like an echo, y'all feelin' that

This is how we run it down the line

Nigga sauce goes first jigga next to rhyme

Chorus (2x)

Verse three: jay-z, sauce money

Jay-z

I see you got a lot to get off your chest

Coat, blouse, bra-don't talk me to death

Like murder's on your mind mami, off the dress

Jigga ran game 'til I lost my breath

Sauce money

Last thing I need to know is what it costs for sex

What you need to know is if I lost respect

Don't have to worry if you do sauce correct

I'ma bless that, bring my whole crew through, don't even sweat that

Jay-z: uh, dime pieces I'm hittin'

Sauce money: four in the morning frosted flakes in your kitchen

Jay-z: now you want me to start trickin' I suppose

Sauce money: that's when the first face off kicks in-

We don't love these hoes!

Chorus (2x)