[Intro: Propain]

(G&B)

(Forever Trill) Yeah, ayy

[Verse 1: Propain & Lil' Keke]

She gon' play with you, but not with Pro'

Player, I got mind control, that boy that cold as five below (Yeah)

Pockets swole, be on the highway with the top exposed

Yellin', "Fuck the fame," I'm on top of green like soccer goals (Gettin' money)

When you ridin' to that top, you see some rocky roads

Yeah, when shit hit the fan, still I killed my compos'

This self made (Uh), born in that mud, but shit, up out I rose

Real nigga that's not a road, still beat a Mike like Papa Joe

Silence, busters pimpin', Key was knockin' doors

I've been chasin' money, slidin' through that bitch likе Mop & Glo (Ayy)

I'm mellow and I'm mafio, she older, but I'm papi though (Fly, fly, Don Kid in thе buildin', let's go)

I started out with nothin' now they say my name on side the Coast, it's crazy

[Verse 2: Lil' Keke]

Coldest niggas, I'm a true fly nigga without a doubt (Doubt)

It's decades of me gettin' paid and showin' out (Out)

The drop still southern and classic, so nasty

610, 288, so never ask me

Cali buds wrapped in a cone, chiefin' strong

Niggas summertime killin' the zone and doin' wrong

Fresh pare of Christions, I'm slidin'

Told a bitch if she ain't fuckin', shit, she ain't ridin'

Legend talk high when I'm breakin' her back, that's a fact

Plus a nigga still actin' his act and countin' stack

This Da Don, I'm fly as a pilot, can't hide it

Where I'm from, if the shoe fit, buy it, nigga, try it

[Verse 3: Slim Thug]

STS fresh, dressed to impress

Rem on, Slim grown, you messin' with the best

Steppin' out tonight, I gotta show 'em who the flyest

Gas God's list, so you know who's the highest

Baby girl, come here, you need to be right by us

Ain't nothin' but bosses and real niggas right beside us

Ladies wanna try us, try to take us home and ride us

Wanna treat us like your highness, 'cause our rides is the flyest

Niggas stay silent, been solid in the streets

'Bout to pick up a check, before I take her home and beat

Fat sweets stuff, cough hard every puff

Think a nigga got that 'Rona, 'cause I'm coughin' too much, fuck

[Chorus: Z-Ro & Paul Wall]

Look at all these hoes

Tryna get at me

But I don't love these hoes

I'd rather smoke on Cali

I'm way too high

And I'm way too fly (Shit, you know I'm fly, what you talkin' 'bout? Paul Wall, baby), yeah (Hey)

[Verse 4: Paul Wall & Big Pokey]

I'm higher than the price of a pint bottle (Bottle)

Laid back with a model, makin' her head bobble (Bobble)

Flyer than a swallow as she swallowin', gobble, gobble (Gobble)

Countin' up that guapo, 'bout to hop in the El Dorado ('Rado)

Open up your mind like Imhotep or Aristotle ('Stotle)

Me and my amanos gotta apply for the avocado ('Cado)

Yeah, the whole Guacamole ('Mole)

Pull up pokin' big smoky, what's up, Big Pokey? (Pokey)

Focused on me low-key, smokin' satellite in tok— (Tokyo)

Yo, bro, hol' up with the hatin', you don't know me (Ayy, you don't know me)

Back to stackin' more cheese, with Z-Ro and Pro' P's, it's Paul Wall, baby (Ayy, ayy)

I chunk the deuce and holla Kobe, bring the trophy, baby (Ayy, say, yeah)

[Verse 5: Big Pokey & Lil' Flip]

Ayy, I'm way too high, Pro', I'm way too fly

Smoking Cali, rockin' bag on my way to Dubai ('Bai)

Blowin' top shelf exotics, it's the best of the best (Best)

Gettin' chose by these hoes, man, I swear I'm a mess (Field nigga)

I got a crush on the money, it's the paper for me (For me)

I'ma grind and shine hard 'til they hate what they see (They hate me, nigga)

I'm focused on what's mine 'til everything fall in line

If I slip financially, who gon' help a player get up off the grind? (Say)

Smokin' weed all alone, I'm in my comfort zone

No distraction, mentally processin' gettin' my money on (Yessir)

Shit, they say the hustle stiff then the money strong (Money strong)

And them hoes we fly 'em in then we send 'em home (Haha, uh)

[Verse 6: Lil Flip]

I rock a Rolex, but I ain't got time, ho, so I grind more

And since '94, I've been pimpin' hard, they keep the blinds closed

I got two butlers, so I told them, "Keep the wine cold"

Baby, I'm raw, just like my cones, and I got nine row

And if I ain't at the party, it ain't poppin' (No way)

I'm like the Headless Horseman and my 'Rari, the top, I chop it (Uh)

Look, I be chasin' paper, ho (Ayy), I'm courtside on the Lakers floor (Ayy)

I'm courtside on the Rockets floor (Ayy), Flip got a psychotic flow (Ow)

It ain't no pressure, you can keep on fuckin' with them lames

'Cause they ain't sayin' a damn thing like Pootie Tang

Don't let them Instagram likes get you all hyped

Come fuck with a mob boss and I can change your life (Yeah)

[Chorus: Z-Ro & Lil' Flip]

Look at all these hoes (That right, that right)

Tryna get at me (Woo, haha, who, me?)

But I don't love these hoes (Noo, you dig?)

I'd rather smoke on Cali

I'm way too high

And I'm way too fly, yeah

[Interlude: Z-Ro]

You know I got my dog hat on

Double breasted, gold head on my 'caine

Gold head on my 'caine, listen

They like why my man got all that on?

Niggas hatin', but these hoes is on my thang

Hoes is on my thang

[Verse 7: Z-Ro]

See I just want the money, my nigga

Type of hustler sell education to a dummy, my nigga

No wholesale, it's the full price if it come from me, my nigga

Top of the mornin', at midnight it's still sunny, my nigga, yeah

Solo dolo, baby, I don't need a team (I don't need a team)

I'm in a different tax braket, I swear I don't need a thing (I don't need a thing)

Only see me when it's time to eat, and then I flee the scene (Then I flee the scene)

And I'm not eatin' nothin' at all, if I'm not eatin' clean, Vandross (Uh)

[Chorus: Z-Ro]

Look at all these hoes

Tryna get at me

But I don't love these hoes

I'd rather smoke on Cali

I'm way too high

And I'm way too fly, yeah