Never - J-Love, RZA, Free Murda

Yo, it makes no sense

Why the fuck is y’all niggas so dense?

Trying to jump the fence

You trying to make a dollar out of 15 cents

Like this nigga Flint, he had no fucking sense

Trying to disrespect the Prince, make a hit like Bucky Dent

Money clip clenched, all his dollars and cents

Wouldn’t give a dime to a wench

Even though catching cream was a cinch

From still penny pinch on the park bench

Holding his nine inch tight as a wrench

Bent til' his eye squint

FZA-FZA-FZA-Flusty from the dust, you could smell the stench

Money green cream from wintergreen mints

Spent his time in limousines, slightly tint

Wherever he went, cause an incident

With 10 henchmen jumping outta doors, suspension Lincoln

Ready for lynching any competition, thinking

They could catch him while he be drinking

Big niggas be shrinking when he come through

A major player, said he was the Alpha and Omega

But still slipped the 40 ounce from the local bodega

Wait… wait, this fucker, Money Talk like Chris Tucker

Bitch stuck a shoe game like Miss Rucker

Never give your gun to a friend

'Cause he’ll never bring it over again

Never leave your ho alone

With your dog, 'cause he might try to bury his bone

What’s this O talk about, she used to have blocks

I don’t wanna hear about ya man crack spots

I don’t wanna hear about that van with black Glocks

About 102 of us like the dogs wit' the black dots

Better keep ya mind and ya hand on that stashbox

We rolled up with more cars than that Matchbox

Pop one right in ya chat box, niggas don’t wanna gatbox

They wan' chatbox, my gat cocked

Have niggas taking up back blocks

Can’t walk through the middle 'cause they talk just a little

Too much, niggas want more than a little

That’s too much, for a draw, send a dog to his kennel

He boozed up, like a plumber, keep my tools up

I’m icy, the R.L. Stine, I got the Goosebumps

Got hit in the head, that’s how he dumbfounded

Got hit so much he thought he was surrounded

Now I’m lounging, been had them thousands

Free stack more bricks than a project housing

My guns make Five Hearts Beat, like Robert Townsend

I be five cars deep, right in ya town, son

Talking all slick 'til I send that kite

He ain’t «Three's Company», pumping Nicks at Nite

We ain’t need company, we got chicks at night

Niggas need company 'cause we got fifths at night (blaow!)

Never give your gun to a friend

'Cause he’ll never bring it over again

Never leave your ho alone

With your dog, 'cause he might try to bury his bone