[Hook]
I feel like the number 1 stunter
Put some respect on my name
The new David Ruffin, I came up from nothin
I put that on everything
I need ice for all my n***as just to heal the pain
And I want more money like Im Damon Wayans!
More money, more money like…
More money, more money like…
I just turned nothing to something, yeah
Yeah I got the whole city jumping, yeah
Nothing like checks in the Summer time!
Dollar sign! Dollar sign! Dollar sign! (x2)

[Verse 1: Mir Fontane]
Just came from south (?) of Texas, woah
I met this bitch named Alexis, woah
When I met her said she taken, yeah
But now she slam (?)
Lost my brother to the game, woah
N***as dying over bullshit!
For more paper
More homeroom
They’ll kill a n***a you went to school with
Momma said stay on your toes boy
Don’t fuck around with them fuck arounds
N***as ain’t there for the ride along
Watch then (?) and act funny now
Oh lord, god damn!
Broke boys got they eyes on me!
Can’t keep it real with themselves
So they telling lies on me
But I used to eat noodles with canned soup
I know that ain’t much, but we made due
At Sunday, at Church I went Hey-sus (Jesus)
Just for the crackers and grape juice
But now Im on tour and it’s (?) time
I got that pool like a Palestein
You know that money my valentines
South Side, double dollar signs

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Young Savage
Look, most these cats won't even last
They clowns!
Fake friends when they act, they pounce
Seated behind you, like the back seat
Until you win though, they only half-way down!
Less guidance, more hurts involved
I’ve been worse with jerks who gave birth to y’all
Call me whack and extend your hand
But I slap it down ‘cause every verse is raw!
N***as love to do dirt and fraud
Get exposed and then call it quits
Come back and try to ball you quick
My n***a Mir already told me
Ya’ll ain’t ish
Everybody wanna be the reason you blew quick
They giving me the keys like I needed to do this
Must’ve mistook me for a homeless n***a
I ain’t never showed a sign that I needed your 2 cents!
Back in the mix, the way I rap is a gift
Ain’t a paster, but n***as can adapt when I lift
Sound like a Future
I don’t wear Designer
But my n***as on the (?) by the 5th
Try till I (?)
But they just want the cake
They don’t really know the bass really killing us
Fakes in your ceiling
I tell you from the gate I ain’t feeling ya’ll
Put you in your place like a realtor!

[Hook]