Say, Rih-Rih, let’s take this sh*t to the street one-time, you know? Throwing hundreds like loose change (still got my money) Got your broad in that Mulsanne (that Bentley, homie) Seats whiter than cocaine (that 40 on me) Got me and Chi-Chi, bring broads, mane She like my homie I’m King Tut with my gold chain My partner with me, he the dope mane Straight gassed, n***a, that BP On that E40, that OG These bitch n***as be acting up These hoe n***as be acting foul They’ll grind with you, they’ll shine with you Be pointing fingers off at your trial My Rolls Royce with my driver in it Getting f*cked up ‘cause I ain’t got to drive Got Kendrick on them bottles Came and poured a swimming pool and we about to dive Got one room, got three b*tches And you’re damn right that’s where they’re supposed to be Two glock 40s at all times I’ll shoot back if n***as shoot at me, you know it Ohhh… All I see is signs All I see is dollar signs Ohhh… Money on my mind Money, money on my mind Throw it, throw it up Watch it fall out from the sky Throw it up, throw it up Watch it all fall out Pour it up, pour it up That’s how we ball out Throw it up, throw it up Watch it all fall out Pour it up, pour it up That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out My foreign cars – domestic beefs Peter Luger’s – the better seats Dollar after dollar – bottle after bottle Late for you haters even though my plane charter Suede Bally shoes, true rude boy Ferrari 400 horses, we do it for cool points Baby, do the math – I’m copping Chanel bags Talking Bell Harbour cigars for her mans Know we run the streets, eating cold bully beef Now we at the Grammys, Tom Ford to my feet Boss on the avey, Rihanna screensaver Whenever you see the fat boy, you know it mean paper Juicy J pouring up codeine – Benz all white, no chlorine Bad chick with me got as and titties Freaky b*tch gon’ f*ck the whole team Ziplock bag full of OG – I go in like a door key Your girlfriend on both knees, she catch more balls than a goalie Purple all in my sprite, I’m high as Denzel on Flight Scared of money, don’t make no money You n***as shaky like dice I’m in the bed with your wife We popping pills, we going hard When she with you she a church girl When she with me she a pornstar Smoking on doobies like cigarettes Which one of these strippers give head the best? P*ssy so good that I think I’m in love What am I saying? It must be the drugs Pour it up, pop that ass out, make it rain, h*e I’ll make it flood, shorty, you might need a raincoat Strip clubs and dollar bills Still got more money Patron shots, can I get a refill? I still got more money Strippers goin’ up and down that pole And I still got my money Four o’clock and we ain’t going home Still got more money Money make the world go around I still got my money Bands make your girl go down Still got more money Lot more where that came from Still got more money The look in your eyes, I you know you want some Still got more money Pour it up, pour it up That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out I catch a case and I go to jail (still got more money) I came home and went back over there (still got more money) I’m multiplying everything I spend (still got more money) These trap n***as I represent (still got more money) It’s Hustle Gang and we popping Got big bank rolls in our pockets Hopping out a foreign vehicle Throwing forty Gs, ain’t no issue, b*tch, b*tch! I’m thorough as it get, official, b*tch, b*tch! Better watch your p*ssy popping I might wanna come and get you, b*tch Now everywhere you may see me Surrounded by bad b*tches like Rih-Rih Got them booty shots, look like Nicki Face and toes pretty, I’m picky See these trap n****s, they on to me And these rap n****s up under me Ain’t nothin’ for me to get a hundred keys And then stimulate the economy, like…