1, 2, 3, 4... [Verse] I'll go half on a sack, if you got the weed Still k** a dope track without the tree It ain't about where you at, it's where you about to be Fine slacks, driving laps in luxury Nuts swinging in the air off the balcony f**, no feeling can compare when they crowning me Ain't no doubting me As luck would have it, I'm prepared Only habit, k**ing sh** 'til I'm a multi-millionaire Just a bunch of fake ‘Pacs, that's blasphemy A Hip-Hop nightmare, I'm a catastrophe If your Rollie tick-tock, that's a fake watch I don't wanna see no time off it On my grind 'til I'm balling, huh Fine dimes sip fine wine like alcoholics So I need a line of credit in my wallet Jackson Pollack, how I splash mine, my cash solid I can't call it, balling off selling phonics Words frolic, compelled by the chronic Don't know if the Earth sprouted it, or if it's hydroponic But it got me dropping gems, lines pop - in I'm petty, I rock without a Chevy And mop the competition What's the meaning of opposition when everybody listens, huh? Watch what you listen for Cause Terrance Moore about to give it to you I'm ‘bout to give it to ya...