[Intro]

(Whiteboy came with the bag like it's Christmas)

[Verse]

I got money, cars, clothes

I bought a chopper, I take it to show

You know I'm on the road when I get in that mode

I tell ma take the road, you know we next to blow

And I knew it was up when I got my first load

I make more off the load what I get for a show

Still in the streets, speak this shit from my soul

Still in the streets, speak this shit from my soul

Nigga still rapping, still trapping like I ain't got shit

All I do is trap, ball, hit the booth and pop shit

Walk in the building, weed got me fucking up my profit

I ran up my money now a nigga feeling cocky

Can't nobody stop me, wrist looking rocky

I'm a shooting star, these Amiris where the Glock be

Catch another body, I can't wait for you to try me

Baby, I'm the wave, I should've named my tape tsunami

You fucking with the realest, richest youngin, you hit the lottery

Why I got this forty and this chopper? 'Cause I gotta be

When I go to sleep, I got that chopper right beside of me

Same niggas love me is the same niggas doubted me

Roddy Rackzz be flowing so insane, he the prodigy

Prada bucket, Prada tee, I know these niggas proud of me

Giving you the best of me, you know I got the recipe

If I ain't in the mall, I'm probably in the booth or selling weed