| Song | Chart Climbin' |
| Artist | Sauce Money |
| Album | Middle Finger U |
| 作曲 : Burks, Cooper, Dunn, Gaither ... | |
| MC rhymin.. | |
| .. uhh uhh | |
| Uhh, uh uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh | |
| MC, MC, M-A-R-C-Y | |
| Uhh, uh.. | |
| MC rhymin, chart climbin | |
| With the baguettes, Roley shinin | |
| We smokin the best trees, I bet some skins on it | |
| I got a SE, twenty inch rims on it | |
| I got playaz who wanna kill me but love to speak nigga | |
| Cause I got a freak every day of the week | |
| They just fake friends, they hope the shit ends (fuck you) | |
| They see the dough my click spend in the big Benz | |
| They think it's sweet, now we rock cubans with diamonds in em | |
| But if they sleep (what?) hell is where I'ma send em | |
| I know it's beef cause I don't wanna be rhymin wit em | |
| They wanna act like BITCHES, time to split em | |
| What the deal Ma? Heard I was boss ha? | |
| On the real, wanna hear it from the Sauce ha? | |
| You like the way I do it? I just gotta spit | |
| I got flow doughs hoes and a lot of hits | |
| [Chorus x4: Sauce Money] | |
| MC rhymin, chart climbin | |
| Together we talk the talk, forever we walk the walk | |
| [Sauce Money] | |
| In the trial my niggaz'll squeeze for the general | |
| MP's holdin my heat, nigga run wild | |
| I dial, executioners, go the extra mile | |
| Nigga cock that, lose a screw when it pop black | |
| Never provoke toast, niggaz get ghost most | |
| You couldn't be my family, we never spoke close | |
| You spit that "yo" shit, I say "nosotros" | |
| Don't fuck with them dudes, think them niggaz homos | |
| I'm talkin the bad bitches, you on some funny shit | |
| You go for broke? I go for gettin money kid | |
| I grab your homebase, now she give new honey head | |
| To all you Donnie Brasco's, I'm Sonny Red | |
| I split a weak nigga cheek quick, with one of those | |
| Fuck a physique wrapped tighter than mummy clothes | |
| Off looks alone probably get to touch em all light | |
| But because of the flow, now I fuck em all night | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Sauce Money] | |
| You like dough baby? Work hard and you can get that | |
| But in the meantime, let me hit that | |
| Get you down on all fours, like a Kit-Kat | |
| I'm tryin to split that, shouldn'ta did that | |
| In and out with the quickness now what could make the brother stop? | |
| Nothin, well maybe if the rubber pop | |
| And even then that might not slow me down | |
| I'm bout to go to town, wanna come? Show me now | |
| Singular most MC's bringin your toast | |
| I run roughshod rip rap stars and roast | |
| I don't brag or boast, I only speak in facts | |
| And if I say you seven days, how weak/week is that? | |
| Fatal to niggaz that's unable to ride wit me | |
| You better decide who side or collide wit me | |
| The very last rapper tragically he died swiftly | |
| You been warned motherfuckers, now come and get me | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Sauce Money] | |
| MC.. | |
| Together we talk the talk, forever we walk the walk [x4] |
| zuò qǔ : Burks, Cooper, Dunn, Gaither ... | |
| MC rhymin.. | |
| .. uhh uhh | |
| Uhh, uh uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh | |
| MC, MC, MARCY | |
| Uhh, uh.. | |
| MC rhymin, chart climbin | |
| With the baguettes, Roley shinin | |
| We smokin the best trees, I bet some skins on it | |
| I got a SE, twenty inch rims on it | |
| I got playaz who wanna kill me but love to speak nigga | |
| Cause I got a freak every day of the week | |
| They just fake friends, they hope the shit ends fuck you | |
| They see the dough my click spend in the big Benz | |
| They think it' s sweet, now we rock cubans with diamonds in em | |
| But if they sleep what? hell is where I' ma send em | |
| I know it' s beef cause I don' t wanna be rhymin wit em | |
| They wanna act like BITCHES, time to split em | |
| What the deal Ma? Heard I was boss ha? | |
| On the real, wanna hear it from the Sauce ha? | |
| You like the way I do it? I just gotta spit | |
| I got flow doughs hoes and a lot of hits | |
| Chorus x4: Sauce Money | |
| MC rhymin, chart climbin | |
| Together we talk the talk, forever we walk the walk | |
| Sauce Money | |
| In the trial my niggaz' ll squeeze for the general | |
| MP' s holdin my heat, nigga run wild | |
| I dial, executioners, go the extra mile | |
| Nigga cock that, lose a screw when it pop black | |
| Never provoke toast, niggaz get ghost most | |
| You couldn' t be my family, we never spoke close | |
| You spit that " yo" shit, I say " nosotros" | |
| Don' t fuck with them dudes, think them niggaz homos | |
| I' m talkin the bad bitches, you on some funny shit | |
| You go for broke? I go for gettin money kid | |
| I grab your homebase, now she give new honey head | |
| To all you Donnie Brasco' s, I' m Sonny Red | |
| I split a weak nigga cheek quick, with one of those | |
| Fuck a physique wrapped tighter than mummy clothes | |
| Off looks alone probably get to touch em all light | |
| But because of the flow, now I fuck em all night | |
| Chorus | |
| Sauce Money | |
| You like dough baby? Work hard and you can get that | |
| But in the meantime, let me hit that | |
| Get you down on all fours, like a KitKat | |
| I' m tryin to split that, shouldn' ta did that | |
| In and out with the quickness now what could make the brother stop? | |
| Nothin, well maybe if the rubber pop | |
| And even then that might not slow me down | |
| I' m bout to go to town, wanna come? Show me now | |
| Singular most MC' s bringin your toast | |
| I run roughshod rip rap stars and roast | |
| I don' t brag or boast, I only speak in facts | |
| And if I say you seven days, how weak week is that? | |
| Fatal to niggaz that' s unable to ride wit me | |
| You better decide who side or collide wit me | |
| The very last rapper tragically he died swiftly | |
| You been warned motherfuckers, now come and get me | |
| Chorus | |
| Sauce Money | |
| MC.. | |
| Together we talk the talk, forever we walk the walk x4 |