[Verse 1: Yo Gotti]
I leave nothing on the table, I'm a greedy a n***a
Shout my young bull word to my Philly n***as
My new young b**h said she been f**ing ball players
You see me 'round some n***as know they all real
Club lit, club lit
Stevie J bring the record back
Kids Ttipping this dope (Trip)
Where the f** my banger At
Stevie J dropped OOUU OOUU
Why the f** he ain't think of that
n***as thinkin' we cool, naw n***a ain't none of that
Yeah, 50 bars tell him run it back
Real n***a in real life, you a real n***a on the internet
Real problems, had real issues in the real streets on real crack
Fake n***as having fake issues, all you hatin' n***as put a end to that
Nothing but k**ers in my session, this sh** d**hrow
Bought a Rollie on my extras, left tho
I be getting to the money ain't no plan B
I be goin' so hard they try to ban me
Aye, look your MCM all in my section tryna take a selfie
I won't give that p**y back they say I'm acting selfish
I made 20 million dollars ain't sh** you can tell me
Gave my life to the streets, I hope that sh** don't fail me
A million dollar smell like some cologne
That b**h ain't bad if she ain't did it on her own
Patek Philipe and I can't even set the time
Buyin' time but I'm still runnin' late
[Pre-Chorus: Yo Gotti]
I got all the chains on like a field n***a
I'm standing on these couches with my lil' n***as
I don't want no rap now, I don't feel n***as
This is ain't for no b**hes, this for real n***as
[Chorus: Meek Mill & Yo Gotti]
Real n***as at the top
Fake n***as at the bottom
And if you bring them p**y n***as up with you
Better leave 'em where you got 'em
Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down
Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down
Real n***as at the top
Fake n***as at the bottom
And if you bring them p**y n***as up with you
Better leave 'em where you got 'em
Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down
Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down
[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
Yeah, came through for the payback
Pulled up in a Maybach
Bought the dawgs [??] wraith back
Wrist rocky like A$AP
Bought the b**h a li' Birkin bag
That's my paper, let her taste that
Plain jane, that's thirty cash, all bust down we ain't playin' that
n***a we lit, I'm in MIA
Thats your b**h, knock her down she in my way (yea yeah)
Take a pic, she gon' post it on her page (oh lord)
That's your b**h, tell your ho to close her legs (oh boy)
Count that paper with my eyes closed
Caught me with that b**h and she went viral
Threw that p**y at me like a spiral
Caught it like Odell Beckham young rich n***a they can't check I'm on one
[Extended Pre-Chorus: Yo Gotti & Meek Mill]
Aye, we don't want them b**hes they some gold diggers (b**h)
We don't do plain jane this sh** for old n***as (bust down, bust down)
We bust down that Rollie just to show n***as (ha)
We bust down that Rollie, we don't owe n***as (no)
I got all the chains on like a field n***a
I'm standing on these couches with my lil' n***as
I don't want no rap now, I don't feel n***as
This is ain't for no b**hes, this for real n***as
[Chorus: Meek Mill & Yo Gotti]
Real n***as at the top
Fake n***as at the bottom
And if you bring them p**y n***as up with you
Better leave 'em where you got 'em
Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down
Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down
Real n***as at the top
Fake n***as at the bottom
And if you bring them p**y n***as up with you
Better leave 'em where you got 'em
Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down
Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down