[Intro]
(Rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr)
Real Murda Worth shit, bitch, ayy, huh
Huh, young n***a gettin' money on camera, n***a, feel like Adin Ross, uh (Like Adin Ross)
Every time my momma got paid she used to take us to Ross (Take us to Ross, n***a)

[Pre-Chrous]
Ayy, I'm clean, n***a, she wanna fuck, let me beat (Bitch)
Clear out the scene n***a, big ass truck, fuck up the streets (Rrr-rrr)
Roll up the weed, n***a, roll the window down, don't fuck up the seats
Get me a Glock mag, fuck a lil' ProMag, n***as gon' fuck up the G23

[Verse 1]
30 gon' sneak up and Lil' Dee creep, MP5 be bangin' like MP3
I don't get enough props when I shoot the Glock, bitch, I feel like CP3 (Bi–)
I don't get enough props when I took his thot, n***a, I just saved his life
I don't gеt enough props, gettin' guap, laugh to the bank likе Chris Rock

[Chorus]
I don't get enough props, young n***a, I know myself a boss (Bitch)
Fucked the bag up just to cut the cost, quit the lean like Adin Ross (Bitch)
She ride me like a Motocross, many n***as in your yard built like Rick Ross
Young n***as in the dark, they'll let it spark (Rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr)

[Refrain]
Fucked the bag up just to cut the cost, quit the lean like Adin Ross (N***a)
Young n***a, gettin' money on camera n***a, I feel like Adin Ross (Bitch)
Every time my momma got paid, used to take a n***a straight Ross (Bitch, n***a)
Creep up through your bush, hide outside his house, everything he feel is hot
[Bridge]
N***a, hot n***a (Rrr-rrr-rrr, ayy, I love you, baby)
Whatcha on, whatcha on? (Was tryna say, ayy)
(Rrr-rrr-rrr) Whatcha on, whatcha on? (I love you, baby, hey, you know I'm gettin' money)
I'ma just stick with a Glock (Rrr-rrr-rrr)
A Glock, whatcha on, whatcha on? (And Fuck these n***as, I'm turnt up)
(Rrr-rrr-rrr) Whatcha on n***a, whatcha on n***a? (You know I go through the most but I'm pushin' through that shit)
Whatcha on n***a, whatcha on? (Whatcha on n***a?)

[Verse 2]
Young n***a, gettin' money on camera n***a, I feel like Adin Ross (Bitch, n***a)
Young n***a make 'em fuck up his stamina, get to shootin' up the block (Block)
Bad bitch, let me fuck her on camera, I'll never cuff the thot (Thot, n***a)
Young n***a, pistol on the Greyhound, I never take the dot (N***a, bitch)

[Pre-Chorus]
Ayy, I'm clean, n***a, she wanna fuck, let me beat (Bitch)
Clear out the scene, n***a, big ass truck, fuck up the streets (Rrr-rrr)
Roll up the weed, n***a, roll the window down, don't fuck up the seats
Get me a Glock mag, fuck a lil' ProMag, n***as gon' fuck up the G23 (Bi–)

[Chorus]
I don't get enough props, young n***a, I know myself a boss (Bitch)
Fucked the bag up just to cut the cost, quit the lean like Adin Ross (Bitch)
She ride me like a Motocross, many n***as in your yard built like Rick Ross
Young n***as in the dark, they'll let it spark (N***a, n***a)
[Outro]
(Rrr–ayy, rrr-rrr, I love you, baby)
Whatcha on, whatcha on? (Was tryna say, ayy)
(Rrr-rrr-rrr) Whatcha on, whatcha on? (I love you, baby, hey, you know I'm gettin' money)
(Rrr-rrr-rrr) Whatcha on, whatcha on? (And fuck these n***as, I'm turnt up)
(Rrr-rrr-rrr) Whatcha on? Bitch, bitch (You know I go through the most but I'm pushin' through that shit)