Face Off 2000 (Feat. Jay-Z) - Sauce Money, Jay-Z

Chorus: this goes out to my brooklyn crew

Lay my game flat, what you wanna do Talk all night, are we gonna screw?

Im talking bout me and you

Verse one: sauce money

I like to push up on chicks like its the last record

Take em to the telly get buck passed naked

Let em feel the power, lick em if it dont 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 theres mirrors on the ceiling

Hit her so right that she wanna throw rice

My device makes her say «damn, that niggas nice!»

Know I got wifey lay my cards when I pivot

Pass your seven digits if youre with it Sauce wanna give you the option for the boot knockin

Nine times outta ten its on and poppin

Aint no stopping victorys in the air

Bring a friend next time lets do it again

Bring your whole crew if you see through me And we can meet on the bqe

And it goes like

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 yall dont buy it I dont eat no kind of fish if you cant fry it But who knows maybe one day Ill 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 aint wack to be with both of us, mami actually

Im eddie kane jr., that nigga me!

You want me to feel what he feel when its tight

And I know, he dont be doing it right

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

Shit, we got niggas rides on our wrists

Play your cards right youll be driving the 6

Shopping all day hoppin out in the dist.

Popping the crist., shit hoppin outta your wrist

Popping your shit, new yorks hottest bitch

>from the ghetto to the stillettos

But you gotta do it two times like an echo, yall feelin that

This is how we run it down the line

Nigga sauce goes first jigga next to rhyme

Verse three: jay-z, sauce money

Jay-z

I see you got a lot to get off your chest

Coat, blouse, bra-dont talk me to death

Like murders 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

Dont have to worry if you do sauce correct

Ima bless that, bring my whole crew through, dont even sweat that

Jay-z: uh, dime pieces Im 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: thats when the first face off kicks in-

«we dont love these hoes!»