Lyrics:

*Dice game intro*Jay z:Uh, uhUh, uh, uh, uhHah, how real is this?Uh, uh, how real is this?What? uh, what?UhVerse one jay z:We push the hottest v''s, peel fastThrough the city, play monopoly with real cashMe and biggie and the models be shaking they sadiddy assAnd prada be, somethin'' you cats got to seeAnd the watches be all types and shapes of stonesBein broke is childish and I''m quite grownRun up in the club with the ice on, me and paisanScope the spot out, see somethin'' nice and I''m goneYou cats is home, screamin the fights onI''m in the fifteen hundred seats, watchin ty-sonSame night, same fightBut one of us cats ain''t playin'' right, I let you tell itPeople place yourselves in the shoes of two felonsAnd tell me you won''t ball every chance you getAt any chance you hit, we live for the momentMakes sense don''t it? now make dollarsCats pop bottles bone chicks that favor IdalisAnd rack up frequent flight mileageChorus: angela winbushGotta let it show, I love the dough, heyI love the dough, more than you knowGotta let it show, I love the dough, heyVerse two: notorious b.i.g.I''m poppin'' magnums while jigga bag somethin''Watch is platinum, got jet lag fromFlights back and forth, pop corks of the best grapesMake the best c.d.''s and the best tapesDon''t forget the vinyl, take girls break spinalsBiggie be richie like lionel, shitYou seen the Jesus, dipped to h classesIce project off lights, chick flashesBlind your broke asses, even got rocks in big mustachesRock top fashionsAin''t shit changed, except the number after the dotOn the range, way niggaz look at me now, kinda strangeI hate y''all tooRather be in Caribbean sounds with rachelIt''s unreal, out the blue frank white got sex appealBitches used to go, ''ewww!''Still tote steel, tryin'' to see five milOff the sin-gle, for realYou ain''t fazin the amazinWhile your guns raisin, mine is blazin''See you on see me all talkin'' to sweetnessTake it for weakness and leave quickBlocka, roc-a-fella, bad boy collaboTwo MC''s with mad dough, junior uh (junior mafia)Chorus: angela winbushI love the dough, more than you know''Gotta let it show, I love the dough, heyVerse three: jay z and notorious b.i.g.Miracu-lous, pockets stay fullNiggas skip the bull ''cause we matadorsSnatch the p-89''s that we pack in the drawersAnd we, clap doors in your acurasSnap like, cameras on amateursMake you all dance, hold the hammer to yoursJig and big rock ice, no cracks or flawsEverybody got a part to play, back to yoursRun up in your crib now, crack your doorsWatch the real players live, it''s a habit to flossPlay the charts like the beatles, y''all adapt you lostAnd toast cristal on behalf y''allToo bad for y''all, ain''t too many as bad as yoursTruly, do we, we laugh at y''allLittle bastards y''allUh, uhWe hit makers with acresRoll shakers in vegas, you can''t break usLost chips on lakers, gassed off shaqCountry house, tennis courts and horsebackRidin'' decidin crack crab or lobster?Who say mobsters don''t prosperNiggaz is actors, niggaz deserve oscarsMe I''m, critically acclaimed, slug past your brainReminisce on dames who, coochie used to stinkWhen we rocked house pieces and puffy gucci linksNow we buy homes in unfamiliar placesTito smile every time he see our facesCases catch more than outfield-ersHalf these rappin'' cats, ain''t seen warCouldn''t score if they had point game, they lameSpeak my name, I make ''em dash like dameChorus: angela winbushI love the dough, more than you knowGotta let it show, I love the dough, hey(Repeat to fade)