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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
R. Kelly
R. Kelly
Performer
JAY-Z
JAY-Z
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
R. Kelly
R. Kelly
Composer
Ronald Isley
Ronald Isley
Composer
O'Kelly Isley Jr.
O'Kelly Isley Jr.
Composer
Ernest Isley
Ernest Isley
Composer
Christopher Howard Jasper
Christopher Howard Jasper
Composer
Shawn Carter
Shawn Carter
Composer
Samuel Barnes
Samuel Barnes
Composer
Jean Claude Olivier
Jean Claude Olivier
Composer
Governor Washington
Governor Washington
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Poke & Tone
Poke & Tone
Producer

Songteksten

Man, they go and tell me like You never know who your true friends until you, ah umm Both got a little bit of money I mean, 'cause y'all both broke Then there's no strain on the relationship, y'all both broke And if you got money and he ain't got no paper He still needs you so you'll never know how he really feel about you When y'all both get some paper, you'll see We used to get money together, phone honies together Pushin chromed out twinkies in custom coach leather You claim it's all love, but nigga it's whatever 'Cause this is business, it ain't personal Same dream, same team, same schemes We even sold to the same damn fiends (How real is dat?) Ain't no rules in this war for this green This is business, and it ain't personal Look, I'm a grown man dog And I ain't got time to be runnin behind y'all I know when I first started it was crazy to y'all "He's gon' start his own label, he'll never be able" Well, nigga you've been wrong before And you'll be wrong again if you bet against him We move through the hood like identical twins But it just so happen that a nigga made it rappin You showed your true colors, y'all niggaz stay yappin That don't stop him, a nigga weigh platinum Stop through the hood, to say what's happenin? ('Sup nigga) Fake hugz (Uh-huh) Fake whassup Fake love, fake fuck, fake thugs Gotta one myself for your fake shit, I raise up Hop in my wheels and I peel, streets are blazed up (Uh-huh) About my bid'ness dog, y'all need to stay up one We used to get money together, phone honies together Pushin chromed out twinkies in custom coach leather You claim it's all love, but nigga it's whatever 'Cause this is business, it ain't personal Same dream, same team, same schemes We even sold to the same damn fiends Ain't no rules in this war for this green This is business, and it ain't personal I wish, I wish, that success, we could all Get a piece of it (Word) But that ain't real dog (No) 'Cause in these streets it's war, the industry much more But rich or poor, I'ma keep it real my nigga Invest in chips and watch my money hill get bigger And do things like, pull up to some clubs In the skirts with Jigga, and yellin out hey What the fuck, pop that Cris' my nigga And then he wants to know how many chips I done sold Well, it ain't y'all business what's behind my doors But y'all niggaz don't appreciate shit Helped you out and you still actin like a little bitch Then you wonder why I put yo' ass in the tenth row When you asked me for some tickets to my TP-2 show Lawd tell me, why we don't like to see us grow? We used to get money together, phone honies together Pushin chromed out twinkies in custom coach leather You claim it's all love, but nigga it's whatever 'Cause this is business, it ain't personal Same dream, same team, same schemes We even sold to the same damn fiends Ain't no rules in this war for this green This is business, and it ain't personal A-alike (Uh-huh) Be alike (That's right) We don't vibe no more because we don't see alike And your mom got it twisted, she think Hov' changed Nope, Hov's still here like Rogaine Ask your boy what he did to the Hov' game How he jeopardized the whole game Now when we see each other it's so strange I don't know whether to hug him or slug him (Damn) I don't know whether to cap him or dap him I don't know what to think of him, I don't know what's happenin But what I do know, all the niggaz that you know Locked up doin a few doe, but who knows? Maybe it wasn't you, maybe I'm buggin too (Right) But I'm scared dog, I don't know what the fuck to do Do me a favor, place yourself in my shoes The game, no exceptions, gotta follow the rules We used to get money together, phone honies together Pushin chromed out twinkies in custom coach leather You claim it's all love, but nigga it's whatever 'Cause this is business, it ain't personal Same dream, same team, same schemes We even sold to the same damn fiends Ain't no rules in this war for this green This is business, and it ain't personal
Writer(s): Ronald Isley, Marvin Isley, Rudolph Isley, Shawn Carter, O'kelly Isley, Ernie Isley, Christopher Jasper, Robert S Kelly, Governor Washington Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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