[Intro: Curren$y]

This is revenge

Like when them Russians caught Alonzo at the red light

No bullets, just pens

No machine guns, just machine lipped rims

Yeah, I let my fitted sit high

Cause I am really on my... grind, fool

[Verse 1: Curren$y]

And as the game rotate, and my name grows bigger

How many bitches want, not many bitches won't

I know you think your bitches don't, but I know what she did last summer

Scream for me when I touched her

Chevy man, though lately had my eyes on the Cutlass

Fitna say fuck it, call Mousa, tell him cop it, give it to my brother

Sticky trees I sit under, tryna stay cool

Big city lights hotter than a mothafucka

Tuesday I'm SoCal, Wednesday it's Calcutta

Socks up, stock rising, Kief Catcher, Spitta grinding

Higher than my fitted riding

And if I showed you where I live, you would think that I was hiding

Can't call it a neighborhood, I ain't living by nobody

Applying for statehood, make my footprint in geography

Spreading my monopoly, and plus nobody I know got killed

In New Orleans today, I got cash put away

And some more on the way, yeah

[Chorus: Curren$y]

Oceans in the back, Porsches in the front

This the life we want, nigga, you only live it once

Uh, I let my fitted sit high

Cause I am really on my grind

Yeah, I let my fitted sit high

Cause I am really on my grind

[Verse 2: Dom Kennedy]

Uh, player shit, you niggas still cuffin

If I wanted her back, nigga, I'd be still fuckin'

Yeah, and I see niggas tryna rap like us

Watch the video, then try to act like us

I know we make this shit look easy

Do a show out in Brooklyn, when I just left the Easy

With my nigga Spit-Spitta, girls tryna get us

Tell her I be comin' back, you best be doin' all them sit ups

Don't take me to the airport cryin' girl, get up

She don't want me to leave when I'm wit her

I tell her I'm the nigga that she need, not a needy-ass nigga

The game don't get any realer

I just want the red outside, black stripes like Thriller

I'm in Miami bumpin' Trilla

I got dope on t'he low, but im not a dope dealer

The feds blockin like the Steelers

I let my fitted sit high, cause I am really on my grind

Katt Williams flow, bitch, this pimpin' all the time

You singin-ass rap niggas simpin' all the time

Fuckin' up the game, niggas fuckin' up my name

You don't want no money, just fame

They ask me how I'm doin', shit, I really can't complain

Sippin' champagne, and try and get everything I want

Yellin' oceans in the back, Porsches in the front

[Chorus: Dom Kennedy]

Uh, uh, I'm yellin

Oceans in the back, Porsches in the front

Yeah, Yeah

Oceans in the back, Porsches in the front

Oceans in the back, Porsches in the front

Oceans in the back, Porsches in the... uh