[Intro: Cash Kidd]
These boys don't know what it take for real
Nah, for real
Ayy

[Verse 1: Cash Kidd]
The hoes, the cars, the cribs, the frauds
The trips, the malls, I got turf on my lawn
I just took a lil' pink thing, don't know when I'm landing
All my bitch know is "sí, sí", I thought that bitch was Spanish
Put Chanel on a dick-eater, don't take them for granted
This an eighteen-hundred-dollar coat, Peyton Manning
Only put my cheese last, when I make a sandwich
Big 40 shoot the blood out this bitch, Meg Thee Stallion
Be for real, coach the whole city like I'm Joe McFashion
Say she used to go with me, bitch know she cappin'
He's a wimp in real life, but write the coldest captions
This money, un-breaking my heart, I feel like Toni Braxton
Told her I don't want no kids, left them on her lashes
My dawg start hating, shit, I would too
It's ironic how his eyes closed, but he in I.C.U
Red and white Prada bucket hat, feel like Dr. Seuss

[Chorus: Dimitri Devaughn]
Can't get money with everybody
They don't wanna hustle
Feelings been on fuck everybody
Grind hard from the muscle
I just wanna ball, never fall off
No, no, no, no
One thing I'ma do is chase that bread, fasho
[Verse 2: Payroll Giovanni]
I keep friends friends, but I hustle with the skill
See, skill handle business, friends rarely pay they bill
Living life on my own terms, fuck how you feel
You ain't real with yourself, so how you telling me what's real?
Lately I've been on chill, closing deals, still get 'em vacuum sealed
I was in the basement, mind on a mansion still
Paid all dues, you n***as passed the bill
We lit as shit, all them captions real
I was funded with my street money
Now I wake up and buy chains with in-my-sleep money
We see who can blow money, who can keep money
I secured next year with last week's money
Yeah, I'm out of town on the rooftop
1942 shots, toasting to a new pot
She put me on her stories, zoomin' in on my new watch
Don't fuck your camera up with them blue rocks
Yeah

[Chorus: Dimitri Devaughn]
Can't get money with everybody
They don't wanna hustle
Feelings been on fuck everybody
Grind hard from the muscle
I just wanna ball, never fall off
No, no, no, no
One thing I'ma do is chase that bread, fasho
[Outro]
(Damn, Machu, why'd you have to do 'em like that?)