[Verse 1: Yung Berg]

First I was a union

My bitch know what she doin'

She break them crackers down, I call that shit communion

And then we runnin' through 'em

Legs back, ass up

Show 'em how I do 'em (Do it, yeah)

Look, I don't want no drama

But I fuck yo' baby mama

And then go and fuck yo' mama (So fuck yo' mama)

She a bad lil' bitch, she be on my dick though

And plus she still a nympho, I pick her up

So I'm Studio 54, yeah, dance and disco

And then I cuff the pussy up, call me Carl Winslow

And you can be an Urkel, hit the colors purple

I'ma pass the pussy around and my niggas in a circle

On turbo, yeah I'm really beamin'

Throw that shit up, call me Willie Beamon

And yes, I really be in them Maserati BMs

[?], that's why your girl creepin'

[Verse 2: Chad]

Yessir, okay, look evеry day is Friday

No, I ain't got to lie, Craig

Keep your peanut butter jеlly, you can give me my bread

Bitch, I'm runnin' things; you would swear that I got five legs

Pullin' out them sticks but I ain't in the fuckin' lobby

Certified maniac, I need to get my mind scanned

Nothin' happens by mistake, look mayne, I had it all planned

Dressin' like it's Easter Sunday, ho, I know you see me

And I'm kinda bow-legged, a stylist is not needed

I'm leavin', bullshit papers I'm not readin'

I turn down bad-ass deals like loudspeakers

Stretch arm swaggin', every goal, yeah I'm reachin'

And that's why yo' girl sittin' on my wood like some bleachers

Pay me for my features, I'm not into freak shit

Pass me that beeper, bet I know just how to treat it

I'm wit' my dog Berg, and we are in Orlando

Need to get yo' party right? We can get the handle

[Verse 3: Ransom & Young Chris]

Rockin' in my leather Vans

Hotter than some leather pants

Yeah he dope, Petico, ready for any and every chance

Catch me shoppin' in Japan, walkin' wit' a lesbian

My overflow overflow, I'm colder than a Gretzky fan

I took a shot like Breski, and sipped, I got it on my own

Now niggas hittin' up my phone, askin' can they hold the throne

Tell yo' bitch to hold my bone and suck me off when no one's home

And I'ma bury that bitch, and you gon' marry that bitch

I'm here to carry my clique, FYM and [?]

My meti's purple; hit it too hard and it might hurt you

Y'all niggas sleepin'? Oh, my bad, did I disturb you?

I catch you creepin', what's in my bag might really murk you

I clearly came insane, and I'm here to change the game

Nothin' like Wayne, but mayne, my shit's Ensayne ([?] these niggas)

I got the recipe

Can't a nigga chef wit' me

Fly young man to the motherfuckin' death of me

[Verse 4: Young Chris]

Fuck all you wack-ass rapper niggas

Niggas ain't gangster, tax them niggas

Shoot 'em in the head when you clap them niggas

Ask them niggas

Niggas ain't fuckin' around like the mutt from the pound

You's a bitch and I'm cuffin' the town

Young Chris hittin' 'em up for 'em now

Run a [?] for 'em now, that hurts

Caddy niggas dead, put that money on her head

Put them [tips][?] up in my clip

Put my youngin's on that brick

Yeah bith, we by the dollar

Put 'em in the trunk, them hoes holla

'Til we get the work from the guala-guala

Took it to the block, that [?] say powder

[?], you niggas ain't seein' it

Where the Backwoods? Young nigga OG'in it

Knee deep in the street, nigga low-keyin' it

.44 got a nigga

We got that product, it's good

Y'all niggas better come through coppin'

You try to rob up in my hood

You young dumb nigga, that'll get you shot, fah-fah-fah

[Verse 5: Ice Berg]

Hey, and that's just billionare smoke and that's gone

I roll blunt after blunt nonstop, tryna challenge my lungs

And these niggas ain't gangster, I'm as real as they come

The only time these niggas tough is when they stickin' in somethin'

The crackers tap the nigga phone, had to get in for 'em

They like, "What you talkin' 'bout?"

Like I'm Willis or somethin'

Half of the niggas on the streets worse than a district attorney

They crack smiles when the jury say they guity to verdict

And these hoes ain't no better, [?]

They gon' start doin' they thang and fuck a nigga like me

And I go overboard wit' it

If I am [?] close by, I let both them boys hit her

And you know them boys ignorant

And it's still fuck the other side

I still ride [?] the jackboys come

But if they come close, they gon' die

I fucked a lotta hoes, but it's three I really want now

And nevermind if I can't have 'em all at one time

[Verse 6: Freddy P.]

Bitch, I'm back up in the business

Gamblin' wit' Christian

I bet him that my condo cost me more than where he livin'

That right there, I lost it

But won back on the Dolphins

I be wit' all the bosses, just addin' up all my losses

My bank receipts be lookin' like I know somebody offense

Now these niggas shook like it's bands up in they closets

Come and fuck wit' Freddy

BMajor, when you ready

When I pull out the Chevy, I drive that bih like [?]

Wit' a group of bad bitch who orderin' spaghetti

Got a drum up in my chopper; stand it up, that shit look pregnant

It's time to make a movie, and you are just a segment

I'm a bottle full of rosé and you are just a beverage

Balanced motherfucker, go find yourself some leverage

'Cause the only thing you get from over here is paramedics

So forget it, I ain't tryna debt it

I ain't scared of you bitches, so tell them niggas that I said it

[Verse 7: Guyana]

Who do you believe in?

They say that we could see it

Quit pickin' 'bout the fliest shit and they just gon' retweet it

Damn I look finito, you hoes a burrito

That means you's a rep, Guyana is the sequel

Addin' up the money, multiply then equal

Showin' all the paperwork and I'm no paralegal

Please do me a favor, try to be my neighbor

I care 'bout my environment so I pick up the paper

Take it like a vitamin, savin' it for later

She just mad 'cause I'm the shit and bitch, you toilet paper

Damn I look so pretty, and every bitch is wit' me

Makin' money disappear so you could call it Magic City

Yeah I'm goin' in, and I ain't comin' out

I come back in that Benz that costs more than your house

Tell me where you shop, is it Neiman Marcus?

Them heels say a lot; and yours sayin' Target

[Verse 8: Jordan Hollywood & Ball Greezy]

Okay, pause for the picture

Kick it like a kicker

If that's yo' girl, then I guess I'ma steal her, Pittsburgh

Twenty-six inches got me rollin' like a Swisher

Steerin' wheel is wood so when I drive, I get splinters

Now step inside my offense

I run it like a offense

Game in a chokehold, call it Steve Hofen

I'm like look mom, I'm ballin' wit' this green, Paul Piers

Old money like I count my shit in dog years

I'm all ears and you still can't tell me shit

Let my dogs work it out, like a gym membership

My money super long, you can check the measurements

Yeah I keep it one-hundred, you can call me Benjamin

And I will never quit, but I can make 'em forfeit

Rock so many Jordans like I signed an endorsement

Live like a reporter, bitch I am important (Yeah, ah)

Girls tryna cuff me, you would think I had a warrant

[Verse 9: Ball Greezy]

I say hold up, wait a minute

Let Ball Greezy get up in it

'Cause you know I am the realest when it come down to this whippin'

I don't see none of you niggas, all this liquor I be sippin'

And it kinda got me trippin', I will go upside your fitted

In here [?] 'bout these bitches and you don't really want it

In here frontin' 'bout your homie, turn your top into a donut

On the block, 10 in the mornin' servin' rocks up in the mornin'

Same Glock up in the mornin' that I pop one of your homies wit'

You really think I'm pussy? I will show you what I really like to do down to the pussy

From the top down to the pussy

Not to come up out the pussy

You really think I'm pussy? Pop a drum up in you pussy

Now that's what I call pussy

[Verse 10: Brisco]

Yeah, pussy, mornin', and pressure

Chopper shells and pills

Chevy grills and skirts

Candy paints and rims

Polos and brims

Bad bitches and rats

Fuck niggas and foes

These are the facts

Haters gon' do they job

Shones gon' suck a dick

Goons gon' kill and rob

And snitches gon' tell the shit

Money the root of all evil when you ain't got none

That's why I'm servin' people until the cops come

Young Money, Cash Money, blood on a nigga shoe

Crack's in a nigga eye, I'm smokin every interview

I'm shoppin' 'til I'm droppin now, Louie V, Christian too

Chanel for my ATL, Gabbana when I'm in the booth

Gucci hold my pants up, stacks wear them bitches down

I'm grindin' gettin' grams up, I'm fuckin' knockin' bitches down

Brisco, killers when I come around

That skrilla got a nigga all gorilla when I'm in your town

[Verse 11: Diego Cash]

The Chevy or the booth, I'm a clean-up nigga

Catch me out in Dead County wit' them G'd up niggas

Throwin' tantrums in the Phantom, had a reasonable doubt

'Til I seen the bigger picture and blew the smoke out my mouth

Now they said the money-money gon' cloud a nigga judgement

But fuck, it ain't the fame, it's the money I'm in love wit'

The Cayo Capo, [?]

I swear my bitch more G'd up than [?]

Mack hit my phone, said to meet me in the cypher

So I came through to drop some shit like a diaper

And all I see is money through my windshield wipers

I run around wit' [?] and credit card swipers

D-I-E-G, O-10, ay ya

Now we drinkin' Fiji wit' hoes from the MI

Ayy, my mami screamin' dame un poquito

Cash and I'm signin' off, it's over, finito