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What's Love Got To Do With It

Ooh, yeah, yeah, what's love got to do

Warren G rap for me, yeah, mmmWhen G-dog, the hog, come up in the place

There's dollar signs in your eyes and a smile in your face

You want to live fat off of my sack

You got more drag than a low lo-do, cut the act

'Cause back before '92 and '93

You didn't give a damn about Warren G

But now that I'm slingin' platinum LP's

All of a sudden you on my N.U.T's

Ain't nothin' you can do to make it stop

'Cause money makes the world

Go 'round and the panties drop

I ain't in love though, I don't need the pressure

I just want to dig it like I'm diggin' for treasure

Some of y'all had a good thing that you couldn't keep

Thought you was TLC, you had to creep

You say you had love, I said you bullshit

It's all about the dough, so what's love got to do with itWhat's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)

What's love if you don't respect the game (uh-huh)

What's love got to do, got to do with it

If you lack in this game, it's a shame you won't make itNow, I'm the type of brother that's down for mines

Before I made beats, I was down to grind

Back then, every single homey had my back

Now they're peepin' my stack and they're talkin' bout jack

But I'm the same brother day in and day out

And I'm-a stay that way until the day I lay out in a casket

It's drastic 'cause homies is plastic

Break 'em off some bread

They want the whole damn basket

If you's a true homey, you would wish me well

Not plot to make a brother fail, jealous as hell

We used to get the same riches

Now your trigger-finger got the itches, schemin' on my riches

Which is not a surprise, my eyes peep game

211's, 187's it's all the same

It's all a shame, homies'd jack you for your grip

Ain't no love involved, because it's all about the chipsWhat's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)

What's love if you don't respect the game (uh-huh)

What's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)

If you lack in this game, it's a shame you won't make itNow for these labels tellin' fables

Makin' the fucked-up deals under the tables

You think that you smart, but fool, I'm the smartest

You can 't make no money if you can't keep an artist

Sign the dotted line, put 'em on the shelf

Break 'em off some crumbs, keep the rest for yourself

I know how it goes, treat an artist like a ho'

Fly cars, gold, clothes, but no dough

Since it's all business, I'm-a handle mine

Keep track of my stack down to the very last dime

'Cause in this rap game, it's all about the buck

You bend over for the label, and you will get fucked

Like how we run up in a trick, and then you're through

The record label do the same shit to you

90% business, 10% show

Ain't no love in this game 'cause it's all about the doughWhat's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)

What's love if you don't respect the game (uh-huh)

What's love got to do, got to do with it (that's right)

If you lack in this game, it's a shame you won't make it(Repeat)

Songwriters

BRITTEN, TERRY / LYLE, GRAHAM HAMILTONPublished by

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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