[Verse 1: Kid Ink]

Yeah

I said it's Kid Ink baby

Turned to the max like TJ

Body tagged up like the bottom of the freeway

Game on lock, you niggas need to get a key made

Run this shit and it ain't nothing but a relay

And ain’t nothing you can tell us

About to roll up, kush sticky like Elmer’s

This ain’t no how I act like summa

Going head up with me, bring a motherfucking helmet

You niggas just special ed

All I see is green but my eyes so red

And all I do is win, got a room full of clouds

About to take another shot but I’m used to the fouls

I'm ballin', you could take two to the mouth

It's Alumni, throw it up, two to the south

Tell them deuces, just put two in the air

So sick, said it must be the flu in the air

If you do it big then I probably did it obese

Thought it was a dream but I never get no sleep

Up all night getting higher then the nose bleed

Swear I was raised by a beast like Mogli

Came from the bottom, rats and the roaches

Now a nigga's blunts sitting as fat as my roaches

Bout to go ham, you niggas just kosher

I’m a shark in the water, see the fin and it's over

[Verse 2: Meek Mill]

Bitch

They were sleeping on me

Time for me to wake them up

Counting all these fucking benjys

'Til I get a paper cut

Kill the competition, I embalm em then I make em up

Only time we Black and Yellow when the caution tape is up

Ha, that record dead, Memory of

Spitting that crack

This really is drugs

It's hate in the air

I ain’t feeling the love

You like an irritating fly

I’m killing your buzz

I’m eating the beat

This is Pac-Man

I’m on the grind like a motherfucking lap dance

Shorty gon’ do whatever

Say she's a rap fan

Every nigga around me robbin', Batman

All black coupes

All black wheels

Step out the line, I'm a show you how that MAC feel

I’m like C. Bailey in the corner of that backfield

Wrong move will get your motherfucking cap pilled

Rolling in this murder engine

Purrin' through your neighborhood

Let my money do the talking

I ain't gotta say I'm good

Homies that'll gun you down

I ain’t gotta say I would

Riding like an engine bitch

I ain’t gotta say I’m hood

I tell a ho to follow me or swallow me

I be spending money

Like I fucking hit the lottery

If I ever hit your girl

Then this is my apology

Cause suckers that be tripping about these bitches

Tryna body me

[Verse 3: Los]

I’m about to go

Rope around my arm

Needle in it I could feel it now

Towel round my head

Taliban knock the building down

High cock blocker

I’m a fly top shotter

In my all red rims

Like a high top Prada

On my mommas mouth to the drama

And lies would be gripping from my lips

As I’m spitting that shit that Osama be gripping

Hungry as a poverty stricken

Robbery victim

With a roscoes waffles and chickens

Winning lottery ticket

And your girl let me pop it in real life

I beat it like they locked me in a room

With the doctor that killed Mike

I feel like, put me in a field let the field lights

Shine on the field now watch me kill all the field mice

I’m anthrax you tampax

I’m about to go Amtrax

Jack Black black Jack

Got the track saran wrap

Stand back I’m slamming an antagonist

Slapping you faggots putting the can in the bandwagoners

Swag of the century, mackin' a bitch or three

I hear it was nothing trying to crack it eventually

Rappers that mention me

Boy, I put this on my mother

You will end up in the scope

Im jus trynna warn a brother

Still getting cheescake on these dummies

Deal or no deal I got a briefcase full of money

Jahlil on the beat, Will hosting this shit

And its T-Lanez, Ink, Meek, and Los in this bitch

[Verse 4: Tory Lanez]

I get in the instrumental, I get to switching the mental

The bitch in rental just positions my dick in her dental

Y’all know my bitch is yellow bone, on yellow stone

Double scoop, chocolate woman and my vanilla cone

Yelling cause I’m very calm, yes I’m on the cherry bone

Things seem quicker than a ping hit ya berry phone

Ya don’t wanna talk about balling parallel Larry Holmes

Money never growing, like a fucking young Gary Coleman

Veteran, batter up, better in

It's the N to you rappers, like the letter after M

And I'm a Lamborghini nigga, nigga you can never see me

Im the shhh, Triple H, you gone have to pedigree me

Bitch I'm ready for the beef, like its some lettuce in between me

You got eeny meeny money, teeny like the youngest preemy

And even if you niggas is crippin, still can never “C” me

Or beat me with three wishes, and a motherfuckin' genie

Scared and they fare when I play a record on ya

Weird and you squared, I could play checkers on ya

Rappers, yall actors, and I rip this track till its “Tra”-”ck”

I rollerblade, let it ride, show my face, televise

Dot to ya top, like the lower case letter i

I fly higher that a sci-fi flyer

Fire like I'm 5 lighters, brighter than a highlighter

Oops, I'm in a loop for time

This a European whip check the coupe design

Time Is Money is the building and the truth inside

Goon shoot you in ya head make ya loose ya mind, for real