[Hook: Calico Jonez]
Hundred bands, I can get it 'fore the sunrise
Took the brick out the water like it's baptized
Every day I got the change going black flips
Ain't no mint in the garden, blowing that piff
I moved a couple ki's, I did it in my sleep
You want the Larry Bird? Come with 33
Every time I wake up, it's time for me to re-up
Every time I look up, I got another cook up

[Verse 1: Sheek Louch]
Say hello to the bad guy, Donnie G, smell that weed aroma when I pass by
Hat low, mad how I'm coming out the liquor store
Belches on the Henny floor
White girl, cut up straw, fingers on that .44
You ain't got that hood love that I got
We be clapping, moving cake, I ain't talking bout IHOP
Calling funerals and wakes, you get murdered on my block
All the pull-up bars and weights, we in shape -- well, why not?
Now I'm a four Donnie, Rose and 'gnac is constantly poured
We having fun, your chick with you is constantly bored
We throw that money up, you faggots watch it hit the floor
It's landing on her back, book bag hundred sack
You ain't got the dough for that
Card shark, we mark a black
Told shorty with the big old ass
Come here, make it clap
She won't get off my lap, hands don't come off the map
It's D-Block, he cock, you don't want none of that
[Hook]

[Verse 2: Pusha T]
Yeah, dope dealing, four-wheeling, no feeling like
Top billing, milk white, no ceiling like
The hands of God bout to touch me, I done seen the light
Double dutch one brick, make you see it twice
Pyrex on that stove, ready rocking them o's
MIA to ATL, we steady popping them hoes
They steady clocking them hoes, they pussy popping on poles
You take her home, you love that bitch, we throwing dollars at yours
Yeah, this that fast money, stash money
Fish scale shit, I think I caught a bass money
You from the talk-a-lot era, where you flash money
I'm from that Keith Sweat era, make it last money, gone

[Verse 3: Bleu Davinci]
I'm a fucking beast, a living legend
In the trap, that 14 cutting up a seven
I had a four-way, worked it off my 2-way
N***a don't pay Monday, dead Tuesday
I'm a trap genius, I'm a trap lord
Bitch, I'm in the sky soaring, G4
Fuck it, G6; n***a, we keep the trap, booming
Try to move on the block, got the street sweeper shooting
Bunch of young n***as round me, n***a we eating
Let one of them yell "Swish," n***as bleeding
Baking soda, check; Pyrex, got it
Cooking up a ki, rip game polished
Trapping in my sleep, Jay doing back flips
N***as trying to rob, hundred round mac clips
Get the work and dip, call that shit the give and go
Go to sleep pushing work, still selling blow
[Hook]

[Verse 4: Bun B]
One man's dream is another man's nightmare
The shit that some people do for money will give you white hair
Run up on your whip, the pistol quicker than a light, yeah
Take what you worked hard for and leave your ass right there
Everybody wanna be a baller and a G
With green by the pound and white by the ki
The cars and the clothes and the hoes on your d
All gravy til them killers at your front door for a fee
Ooo-wee, that's when real shit gets even realer
When that shot burn chest and I ain't talking bout tequila
With holes in your fancy clothes and blood on your gators
And ho you used to fuck with is laid up with your haters
It's cold outside and I ain't talking about degrees
I'm talking bout when rabbit-ass n***as want your cheese
You think you can run up on the trill -- n***a, please
I leave the top of your wig on the bottom of my 3's, bitch

[Hook]