[Verse 1: Young Lito]
Straight out of Brooklyn
A young, live n***a named Lito
Baby faced, hella fly, but my heat blow
Rap’s cool but I’m really in the streets, so
Don’t compare me to rappers, I’m more like Meech, ho
Shit changes, now I’m calling the shots
I just bought me a chain, I really wanted a Glock
These n***as see me, they’re hating I’m getting all of this guap
But run up, and I’m ‘a have your momma calling the cops
We’re putting pain in, BSB bangin’
Shot the thirty but he felt ten like Raymond
Don’t sell nicks though, my n***as really slangin’
We’re dealing with bricks, got some chicks bringing the ‘caine in
I’m saying I’m a fly n***a, look at me
Getting dough is a crime, the judge will throw the book at me
These n***as is shook of me
Still in the hood where the wolves and the crooks will be
Really tough, these n***as is faking like Booker T


[Hook: Young Lito]
Young n***a out here, getting money
I swear they don’t do it like me
(They don’t do it like me!)
Haters looking like they want something from me
I’ll have them hooked to an IV
(Don’t play with your life!)
Can a young n***a get money? [x4]

[Verse 2: Troy Ave]
Yes I can, yes I can
Get money off snow bunnies for my Mexican
Was out in Cancun, jet skis, (extra tan?)
Came home and bought a new Mercedes-Benz sedan
Now I’m riding on the road to riches
I’m just doing me, haters saying I’m malicious
Take the scrutiny and dick up out your throat, will you?
Nobody cares about the opinion of a broke n***a
What you’re saying won’t never matter
You ain’t even up, bank full of chuck
And I’m the n***a that the bad bitches want to fuck
Got a question for you—is you mad or is you mad as fuck?
Throw you n***as bullets, [?]
Keep a Colt Forty-Five, last shooting was [a nine?]
[?] was a goon, but to me he was vagina
That’s a lesson, hear the warning, mind your B I Z
‘Cause we’re the money murder crew, BSB
N***a


[Hook]


[Verse 3: Young Lito]
Have you ever seen a thug in Phillip Lim?
Who’s got so many pounds a n***a could fill a gym
See most of my homies dead or even locked in a pen
I’m talking I’ll Slaughterhouse for selling that Eminem
(Who is him?)
It’s Lito, the young boss don
Fly as hell with my cross on
Shit, I might have put your boss on
I had the right girls, still did them all wrong
And got some old friends a n***a just floss on
Flyer than an eagle, bitches screaming Lito
Riding in the Benz but the shooters in the Regal
If rap fails, then I’m ‘a get it off my ‘migo
My youngins on the strip hitting licks like it’s legal
You n***as better D up
Balling, n***a we up
But not on the court, I’m in the suite with my feet up
Haters throwing shots but they really want to be us
Might go to Philippe’s and just eat them n***as’ re-up

[Hook]