[Chorus: TMC the Don & Money Jake]

Ayy, she got a shape of a bottle

Exotic lil' baby, I think she a model

Designer you, baby, Balenci' your body

I'm wellin' you and I don't think you acknowledge

I'm hittin' the gas, I don't care 'bout the mileage

She ridin' me, baby, I tap on her throttle

And I just want Cuban links up on my body

And I just want Forgiatos when I ride it, and I

She love the Gucci and Prada

My foot on they neck like a shirt on a collar

You mention my name, better be 'bout a dollar

I stay with that stick like I'm Harry and Potter

You cut that bitch off, so don't worry about it

I bossed her up, gotta bury your mileage

Gucci and Prada, she wearin' red bottoms

I want me some head, I'ma marry a scholar

[Verse 1: TMC the Don]

She rock Dior with the Fendi, she always look pretty, I think that I married a stylist

BBL, touch on her gently, she ride like a Bentley, I think that I married her body

[Verse 2: Money Jake]

Ayy, I got ninety-nine problems, but bitches ain't one

The dick in her throat, make her cum from her lung

Thumb in her butt, beat her ass like a drum

This position right here, you'll be havin' my son, yeah

[Verse 3: TMC the Don]

Bitch, I'm already numb to cold

I like her body, but I told her we can have bitches in multiples

Threesome got you fantasizing, I'm readin' your body, know you gettin' comfortable

Ooh, now you sayin' I'm one of the greatest

She rockin' Amiris, keep her in the latest

I'm countin' the money, she like when I break it down

[Verse 4: Money Jake]

She love a big stepper, I pop it, Stojaković

And I run my whole squad like I'm Popovich

Take me a solid ho over a poppin' bitch

Just in case you go broke and they hoppin' dick

I get more head than a bald net

She eat me up, I'm an omelette

I'm 'bout my coin like I'm Sonic

All this bread got my neck and my arms lit

[Verse 5: TMC the Don]

And I'm spinnin', eeny, meeny, any model, pick a model

Really we the hottest in the town

Told me that you tired of playin' games with me

That you wanna see what we about

[Verse 6: Money Jake]

Oh, gee, ma

You want a Rollie, a G-Shock

She fuckin' with me and she fuck on a don

I really can't blame her, 'cause we hot

[Chorus: TMC the Don & Money Jake]

Ayy, she got a shape of a bottle

Exotic lil' baby, I think she a model

Designer you, baby, Balenci' your body

I'm wellin' you and I don't think you acknowledge

I'm hittin' the gas, I don't care 'bout the mileage

She ridin' me, baby, I tap on her throttle

And I just want Cuban links up on my body

And I just want Forgiatos when I ride it, and I

She love the Gucci and Prada

My foot on they neck like a shirt on a collar

You mention my name, better be 'bout a dollar

I stay with that stick like I'm Harry and Potter

You cut that bitch off, so don't worry about it

I bossed her up, gotta bury your mileage

Gucci and Prada, she wearin' red bottoms

I want me some head, I'ma marry a scholar