[Verse 1: Payroll]
4-1
Top down, windows up, flyin’ through the ghetto
Right hand on the wheel, the other on the metal
I run a tight ship, so I got a tight schedule
You know it’s ‘bout money every time I say, “Hello”
I grew up in the era watchin’ OG’s, that’s heavy
When n***as sold bird, rock bird under pellies
Started off with ..., graduated to coke
‘cause in my city, if you broke, you a practical joke
And ain’t shit funny
So, I wake up
Weigh up and get money
Truly, runnin’ off with a cutie will make you get ugly
When n***as ate, they used to leave me with the leftovers
Now, I’m tellin’ waiters, “Only bring the best over”
You in that throwback Range, we in the next Rover
Lookin’ like a million bucks, tryna stack some millions up
When I was down, it took some Band-Aid to do some healin’ up
Now, every time I see a shoebox, I wanna fill it up

[Chorus: Doughboy Clay]
Hustlas, stay on your grind
Bosses, let your Rolex shine
Keep money on your mind
And in these streets, you better keep your .9
Hustlas, stay on your grind
Bosses, let your Rolex shine
Keep money on your mind
And in these streets, you better keep your .9
[Verse 2: B-Legit]
I be in the club with a loaded gun
You be gettin’ loaded throwin’ hella one’s
A few Rolex’s but the yellow one
Got Master 44 not the 41
Been gettin’ [...], grippin’ nice wood
Six-hunid break down, me and Icewood
The wife would and your girlfriend
And prolly count money when the world end
‘til then, n***a, I’ma run routes
Comin’ from the top, we ain’t runnin’ out
Fuckin’ with my doughboy, cashin’ out
Fuck her ‘til the mornin’, then we mashin’ out
Catch me on the block like, “What up, though?”
The shit I’m smokin’ on cost me thirty-four
The shit you smokin’ on cost you forty-four
So, holla at a n***a, n***a, let me know

[Chorus: Doughboy Clay]
Hustlas, stay on your grind
Bosses, let your Rolex shine
Keep money on your mind
And in these streets, you better keep your .9
Hustlas, stay on your grind
Bosses, let your Rolex shine
Keep money on your mind
And in these streets, you better keep your .9
[Verse 3: Big Quis]
Lookin’ at my safe, prayin’ to God to keep me safe
Kush inside my lungs, with a gun on my waist
A lot of n***as hate, been in more beef than burgers
Next n***a try me out, I’ma catch another attempted murder
When everybody count your pockets, man, that shit is scary
I rep Detroit with twenty on my chest like I’m Barry
I’m lookin’ for a plug, you lookin’ for a bitch to marry
Chase cheese or chase rats, n***a, is you Tom or Jerry?
I been through a lot, my biggest hater is the cops
Keep gettin’ charged with cases, right now, we so hot
It’s me against the world, got me feelin’ like I’m Pac
Before I drink with a bitch, I send some bread to my pops
School of Hard Knocks, I wasn’t goin’ to no institute
When I was broke, I lost some friends and a bitch or two
Presidential or the Big Face, I don’t know what to choose
I was gone for a minute, now I’m back, peek a boo

[Chorus: Doughboy Clay & Payroll]
Hustlas, stay on your grind (Doughboyz Cashout)
Bosses, let your Rolex shine (Stack Season)
Keep money on your mind (bosses)
And in these streets, you better keep your .9 (Hustlas and Bosses)
Hustlas, stay on your grind (Detroit to the Bay)
Bosses, let your Rolex shine (What up, B?)
Keep money on your mind
And in these streets, you better keep your .9