What's Love Got to Do with It Lyrics

Ooh, yeah, yeah What's love got to do Warren G, rap for me, yeah-eah, yeah, mm mm When G-dog, the hog, come up in the place It's dollar signs in your eyes and a smile in your face You wanna 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 wanna 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 bull-shitting It's all about the dough, so what's love got to do with it? What'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 it Now, I'm the type of brother that's down for mines Before I made beats, I was down the 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 bail, 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 211s, 187s 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 chips What'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 it Now 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 them 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 dough What'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 it