[Verse 1: Lyrikile Trife]
If you talking about dollars only thing I turn down is my collar pull out turn em' around if you reach make em' hollar who running the town the good fellas Lyrikile's the godfather dog so why? bother with the 3rd person you might catch me surfing money I be jerking my new born be burping can't stop I won't stop I want respect son and I only bump heads for check funds I'm a hethin that belives in thieving anything for cheese change every season pump while its hot then we ride when its On the decaon in the m 5 speeding puffing weed in real n***as take the life we living WrongWay get the finest women plus I want a box with the ice and a ribbin so nice giving doe to my sibblins cop good price crib in with a 100 rooms and tell my crew to strive and dib in thats how it is and it will be laywers build me til they k** me street life thrill me filthy I love those who plug those s*ut hoes with the snub nose and you know where the grub goes in the belly of the mack ah making them triple stacks n***a!
[Hook]
"If you's a true player up in the place yo then throw your hands in the air"
"If you's a true player up in the place yo then throw your hands in the air"
"If you's a true player up in the place yo then throw your hands in the air"
[Verse 2: Lyrikile Trife]
How you living? Lyrikile I'm surrounded by dime hoes fine clothes and psychos co*king b**hes like sniper rifles suicidal like kurt cobane the good die young in the hood getting high having fun son stick your girl up chilling to freeze like a stun gun feeling the heat I spit that realness from the streets silk sheets in between like the isley's Vip line g I came to the club drunk with a fake id rocking some gators all I want is paper my games s** grand masterbator sh** hotter than the ecwaiter so if yous a true player throw your hands in the air