[Verse 1]

Uh

They say success, is the best revenge

That's the reason I'm always on my grind

I promise to God, I ain't got no paper to lend

Ya'll motherfuckers, must be out ya'll mind

And I don't really give a fuck, if you be family or friend

I ain't giving up one god damn dime

I'm leaving all you bitches behind

I'm leaving all you bitches behind, that's right

Z-Ro the Crooked, King of the Ghetto, and the Mo City Don

That's a hell of a man

And he ain't trying to buy no wolf tickets either homie

So ain't no use in selling em man

You damn right, a hell of a hustle ain't got get you nothing but some hell of a grands

No feeling like money in my hand

Money over bitches I know you understand, that's right

[Hook]

I'm doing just fine, homie I don't need no help

Especially when it comes, to spending my wealth

I'm doing just fine, I'm one deep because I love myself

Envy and jealousy, is bad for my health

I'm doing just fine, without you in my life

I don't need you in my life, I don't want you in my life

All I want is the cash

All of ya'll can kiss my ass

[Verse 2]

I'm still a gangsta, pussy niggas better stay up out my way

Frown on my face, I'm holding my H.K

Handling bidness, digging ditches everyday hey

Still a gangsta, pussy niggas better stay up out my way

And I'ma be a real nigga, until I'm old and grey

And the whole world wanna know, just what I've got to say

S.U.C., until I D-I-E

That's all I, ever will be

I'ma keep holding it down, and doing this damn thing for my town

None of you bitches, ain't gotta come around

And its gon be like that, till I'm in the ground that's right

[Hook]

[Verse 3]

I use to have a love jones, for this chick named Lisa

Now my love jones, is for the Mastercard or the Visa

Ain't no love in my heart, homie it's Cole like Keisha

Nine ounces in the door panel, a couple of mo' in the speaker

I get a ticket down in Texas, ain't gon give em a reason

To put me in jail it's even, and gone a couple of seasons

I'm trying to stack my paper taller, than a great dane

Joseph Wayne McVey ain't saving no bitches, cause he ain't got a cape mayn

Bitch, you ain't smoking my weed for free

And don't offer me none of your raggedy booty, that ain't nothing to me

And while ya'll getting-getting some head, I'm getting-getting some bread

And while ya'll fellas relaxing, I'll be getting-getting ahead

Screwed Up Click, until I die

Mayn I'm so high, I don't think I can drive

That's why I'm riding shotgun, with my shotgun

One nigga disrepect, and get your whole block done done

[Hook]

[talking in background of hook]

Ha-ha, King of the Ghetto Entertainment

(yeah, not on me) Rap-A-Lot Records in this bitch

(in my life), what it do Big Chief

What up J, what up all my niggas in Mo City

We on our motherfucking own nigga, you know I'm saying

The down South shit nigga, Screwston Texas nigga (ay)

Al-motherfucking-ready (ay), heavy like a '57 Cheve (ayyyyaaaay)

Already going down country tunes, R.I.P. Pimp

Still going down in the South, bitch yeah