[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]