[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
Fresher than a mothafuckin' cocaine pusher
Got work under the stairs, got the gun in the bushes
Anybody want beef, come and meet the butcher
Bring the punk out of a n***a like Ashton Kutcher
Fuck you pay me! like nasty hookers
I got that recipe they tell me "pass the cook book"
Fuckin wit lil' weezy baby that's a good look
So hop your ass on the good book and sha mon'
I ain't really that n***a that you would want to front on
I put ya whole life on ya front lawn .. come on
Son on that shit that none on, gun on
I can drive the whip and work the tooly while with one arm
That's word to my mom, she worry if I'ma come home
I tell her don't trip, I'm runnin' this bitch, a n***a just gettin' his stunt on
Number one stunner junior! hallelujah! fuck ya! I wish I never knew ya! PEACE!

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene
Let the g's do they thing
I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
[Verse 2: Ransom]
My hustle is gettin' gully
You fuckers will get it from me
I touch 'em with every dummy, my duffel is filled with money
You pop your lip and get ya man shot boy!
I make 'em lean and rock like Dem Franchise Boyz!
You couldn't joust wit me, n***a there ain't no doubt wit me
You run your mouth to me, I go hang you over ya balcony
They got it out for me, don't gotta spell it out for me
Jersey boy, got the whole city that could vouch for me
Don't try to play homie I'll pull the eighty out, fade ya out
Put what you was thinkin' on ya lady blouse
This a great rookie, ransom, pray for me
Take a chance, put this ape on like a bapes hooded
I heard 'em all, merk'em all wit that dirty four
Servin raw, till I'm thirty-four, that's a jersey boy
That's weezy f, ransom, grease yes!
Hand guns, bland one, go ahead, bleed to death

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
I'ma whip that dope like a n***a 'posed to do
Hundred thousand dollar whips when the boat roll through
Triple c's, my people we triple g's, while you looking all crooked, my n***as they quick to squeeze!
Slap you with the four five, bitch who you rapping 'bout
When it come to weight, when I rick ross max it out
I'm the one that they askin' bout, in the aston martin, weed sparkin', flickin' ashes out
Rick Ross will never ask you out
When I get your number I'ma come and hunt your fuckin mouth
You gotta suck dick, if you wanna touch chips
?? 3 5 7 can't touch this
I-9 5, I traffic my body weight, in the big body Benz, got the whole body laid straight!
You straight!? I hope ya ass is
I'll leave ya ass as is

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing
I got a bird in the bag and the bag on my back
Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene!
Clear the scene
Let the g's do their thing