[Intro: Royce Da 5'9"]
Yeah
M.I.C. Records
Yeah
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
I show up looking like money, that diamond chain on
b**hes is dick swinging, getting their hang on
Expensive frames on, touch me, your a** is gra**
Speaking of gra**, this stripper's tryna get rained on
I'm rich, but I ain't no drug dealer, I hang with them
I can talk business and talk sh** on the same phone
My kidney floating, I'm drinking like I'm supposed to
They call me Frank The Tank in the hood, I'm old school
I keep a different b**h in the car when I roll though
n***a, I be bringing out more hoes than the shows do
You got a girl, n***a, I got girls, n***a
The difference between us is my penis is plural, n***a
I'm nicknaming my car, call it "Ass In The Martin"
You n***as living like rats in a shackled apartment
Take that back, that's wack, it's the fact that you bought it
I act retarded, my mind's on the back of a carton
I never thought that I'd see the day that rappers was blogging
They sound hungry but them n***as is actually starving
Perhaps it's the chardonnay I'm at the crib sipping
You n***as working, but dig this here what [?] different
You're working out in the gym, how 'bout we k** n***as
We exercise by gun running and wig lifting
Sig spitting, the pimps see us, we're big pimping
I don't be sniffing no cane but that sh** is tempting
[Hook 2x: Royce Da 5'9"]
Weatherman with that change, I make it rain on them
Weatherman with that thing, I go insane on them
Let a ho give me brain, the numbers change on them
When the cheddar go on their heads, bullets got names on them
[Verse 2: s**a Free]
Weatherman in my hood, I make it snow there
Posted on blocks, getting higher than a goat there
If you're liking the flow, then n***a, you're a cokehead
Oh yeah, this thing on my waist got a kick like a steel toe
Earring wearing cutie, ring wearing elbow
M.I.C. chain saying hello
I'm looking cool in the whip, you n***as looking jello
Plus you got the pie face
I got more goons than Tom got friends on MySpace
Never hungry, no thanks
I ate, look mama, my plate's scrapped
They say the burbs don't make k**ers
We got them bodybags in, we're making a k**ing
You n***as snitching, we got the paperwork
Without no wheels, I still have a way to work
Welcome to the barbershop
Where we all keep cutters, not a knife
But a chopper motherf**er, real street smart, I can teach heart
My crew rock solid, y'all just trying to be hard
We love our kids, we're always overseas
But we hardly ever see ours
You can't rewind that time like a DVR
Y'all not, we are
We ball, stay fresh to d**h, we gon' see y'all
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Kid Vishis]
I write raps with crack rocks on black paper
Rhyme savior, new grind, time to cake up
You're getting money, n***a pay up
You said you're balling, so thou give me two like a lay up
Real lyricist, been R.A.W
You ain't never been sh**, that's why I don't f** with you
Untouchable me, look and find V
In the Murcielago with a Birkin model
I'm known wherever I go, Chicago to Oslo
You ain't been across the water since they shut down Boblo
Streetwise volatile, but as far as music
You can call me Pablo, the rest of y'all the Cubans
Prime contender
Plus I roll with the king like I set a screen on one of LeBron's defenders
And the hoes want me like the clothes that say Doce
No bae, that's Do-che, you need an upgrade
You boys are funny, I rap for money, silly
And I been to more countries than you monkeys been to cities
Man, I grind everyday
The only thing you know 'bout hustling is the dance at a cabaret
And we cop that, mac 11's co*k that
That beretta co*k back, what you spit is not rap
I'm a pimp, what you want, Black, White, or Asian
Cars reserved, only bring them out on occasion
When I do, soon as I meet her, I hit the diva bust
And she leave it on her face like it's Noxzema
She was scream like she was possessed by a demon
Working on that co*k and I pay her with my semen
You insecurely hate 'cause you see Royce
And Mike B the only ones left in the D with j**elry
But hate on, hater, the AR spray y'all
This fade all, I say y'all can lay down or lay off
[Hook]