[Chorus: Rob Markman]
Next check gonna be for a million
I don't know how I know, I just feel it
Palms itching, intuition
Multiple this money we don't understand division
Fuck it up, get it back and fuck it up
Fuck it up, get it back, fuck it up
Next check gonna be for a million
I don't know how I know, I just feel it

[Verse 1: Rob Markman]
I got sins I ain't pay for yet
Copped the Jesus piece just to cover the debt
I must admit last summer was lit
Now I walk up in this bitch like it's money to get
Toast to the life that we choses
Took losses, came up like roses
Tryna paint a picture only got two poses
The Pablo cut, with a part like Moses
Walk with my team in a sea full of posers
Offset the flow, my Migos for the culture
Dropped Write To Dream now the dream getting closer
Nightmares of devils drinkin' lean with the vultures
Awakened by cold sweats
Dapper Dan Gucci paid in full with no debt
Got mine before rap, facts, no flex
Tryna cop the crib before I cop the Rolex
[Chorus: Rob Markman]
Next check gonna be for a million
I don't know how I know, I just feel it
Palms itching, intuition
Multiple this money we don't understand division
Fuck it up, get it back and fuck it up
Fuck it up, get it back, fuck it up
Next check gonna be for a million
I don't know how I know, I just feel it

[Verse 2: Styles P]
We could talk about the next check
My signature's on it, meaning I accept
And deposit it
It look nice, but I still keep it moderate
Need a lick to follow it
Next check I'ma fuck it up
Get it back, fuck it up again
Got work, then cut it up
No dairy, but I'm buttered up
Gotta leather that Mayweather would rock just to stunt on us
Next check is to the rap n***as
If I'm in the back, you ain't got to worry cause I lap n***as
Or I'm standin' there to whack n***as
Make 'em turn around, 'fore I burn 'em down wit' the strap n***a
Next check is to myself
Gotta check up on ya health
Gotta check up on ya wealth
Got checks up on ya feet
Another check up in the belt
I'm a real chess player, make the checkerboard melt
Ghost, n***a
[Chorus: Rob Markman]
Next check gonna be for a million
I don't know how I know, I just feel it
Palms itching, intuition
Multiple this money we don't understand division
Fuck it up, get it back and fuck it up
Fuck it up, get it back, fuck it up
Next check gonna be for a million
I don't know how I know, I just feel it

[Verse 3: Cris Streetz]
I just feel that paper comin', that's my intuition
Need them Steph Curry numbers, leave them in their feelings
Bars golden, mouth on diamonds when I smile they glisten
Warrior mentality, we kill all opposition
They lookin' salty while we padding the stats
The Bronx boy they said that couldn't got 'em watchin' their backs
I'm in these meetings, feet up, like add more zeros to that
These boys thirsty for a deal they signed for less than a pack
These Don C's on my feet ain't cheap, matter of fact
Check the team, Noc beats ain't cheap
Must be the Bow Wow Challenge, what trap y'all seen
Everybody talk G but I've seen men bleed
It's all irrelevant
Fuck Trump, only rockin' with dead presidents
Fuck up some paper, cop some more the only medicine
Simple math, more you cop, lower that the numbers get
Waitin' for that million dollar check so I could blow the shit
[Chorus: Rob Markman]
Next check gonna be for a million
I don't know how I know, I just feel it
Palms itching, intuition
Multiple this money we don't understand division
Fuck it up, get it back and fuck it up
Fuck it up, get it back, fuck it up
Next check gonna be for a million
I don't know how I know, I just feel it