[Intro: Peezy]
(David Wesson)
Ayy, Clay, what's happenin', my n***a?
Let's run the numbers up

[Chorus: Doughboy Clay]
I'm a million-dollar n***a way I'm runnin' the streets
I'm paranoid, feel like the world got it out for me (Got it out for me)
Don't call my phone if it ain't ten thousand at least
I'ma hold this shit down for the homies locked and deceased
G shit (G shit)
Real street shit (Real street shit)
G shit (Ayy)
Real street shit (Ayy)

[Verse 1: Peezy]
Quarter-million-dollar n***a, fresh up out the slums (Fresh up out the slums)
Black Amiri jeans stuffed with 'bout three hundred huns (That's thirty)
In the project shootin' dice and I ain't got no gun (Real talk)
A n***a ain't gon' rob shit, I put that on my son (N***as know)
Free my dog, he used to stand over shit for fun (Free shooter)
Just sent a thousand, hit my line soon as them bitches done (Soon as they done)
Been in the bar for five minutes, blew two thousand ones (Yup)
I don't wanna hear your opinion, you ain't got a fuckin' crumb (Shut your broke ass up)
Just pulled a paper tag up in front of Golden Sun
Hit the hazards, popped the trunk open, pulled out a half a hun' (Fifty racks)
Told Gary let's get to work 'cause I ain't got that long (I'm in a rush)
Fuck that flower set shit, I want my shit with stones (Chunks)
I'm sellin' records now, I came from sellin' stones (Yup)
Used to cook four and a half and get two extras on (Six)
Tryna make a hundred thousand out a vacant home (A hundred)
They just gave my n***a thirty-three, I pray he make it home (Yeah)
[Chorus: Doughboy Clay]
I'm a million-dollar n***a way I'm runnin' the streets
I'm paranoid, feel like the world got it out for me (Got it out for me)
Don't call my phone if it ain't ten thousand at least
I'ma hold this shit down for the homies locked and deceased
G shit (G shit)
Real street shit (Real street shit)
G shit (Ayy)
Real street shit (Ayy)

[Verse 2: Payroll Giovanni]
N***as be characters, swearin' they cash gettin'
You was wearin' a mask way before the whole pandemic
I'm taxin' outsiders, you ain't payin' my man's ticket
Ice dancin' on the watch, it look like the band twitchin'
Rather push a drop, me push a mop, I'll be damned, n***a
Before that, I'll cop some dog and go gram for gram with you
I'm textin' the Rolls Royce, Bentley, and Lam' dealer
I know I'm your ho's choice, but I let my mans hit her
Keep a pistol on me, so I buy all my pants bigger
Semis in Amiris, parkin' coupes on the ave, n***a
I'm hoppin' out, rockin' shit n***as don't know about
The price for me to fuck over my mans, it ain't no amount
You n***as runnin' off with scraps and crumbs
But that's what happen when you trap with bums
Meanwhile, I'm at Golden Sun spendin' big stacks of huns
Grabbin' a presi' just to match my son's, n***a, G shit
[Chorus: Doughboy Clay]
I'm a million-dollar n***a way I'm runnin' the streets
I'm paranoid, feel like the world got it out for me (Got it out for me)
Don't call my phone if it ain't ten thousand at least
I'ma hold this shit down for the homies locked and deceased
G shit (G shit)
Real street shit (Real street shit)
G shit (Ayy)
Real street shit

[Outro: Doughboy Clay]
G shit
Real street shit
G shit
Real street shit
Ayy
Ayy