[Intro: Rich the Kid]
Yeah, you know what I'm sayin'?
Can't never switch, huh
Ooh, ooh, ayy, ayy, huh

[Chorus: Rich the Kid]
You ain't a boss you can't touch her
I might just paint the Bentley mustard
I got rich, that's on my mother
Say she love you, still can't trust her
Cop the porsche, drop the top, then I Speed Race it
But my frames, they Dior, I can't see baby
While your boyfriend a lame I got mo' paper
Ran the money up now I got mo' haters

[Verse 1: Rich the Kid]
Where my stash box? (Stash)
Bring the racks out (Racks)
What your bag bout? (Bag)
I blew that cash out (Cash, what)
Yah, ayy, ran my money up
Now I got mo' haters (I got mo' paper)
Bitches wanna fuck 'cause I got mo' paper
Now I Speed Race, I want more face
My bitch bake the cake, I might slide the Wraith
Hermès links, check the slink
Chanel when she blink, she want that 'Rari pink (Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt)
[Chorus: Rich the Kid]
You ain't a boss you can't touch her
I might just paint the Bentley mustard
I got rich, that's on my mother
Say she love you, still can't trust her
Cop the porsche, drop the top, then I Speed Race it
But my frames, they Dior, I can't see baby
While your boyfriend a lame I got mo' paper
Ran the money up now I got mo' haters

[Verse 2: YG]
I need the bag fast, fast, fast, fast (Fast)
Pulled up, Lambo, n***as mad, mad, mad, mad (N***as mad)
Saint Laurent, hard bottoms, splash, splash, splash (Splash)
You might slip on the drip, you might need the cash
I painted my 6-4 red, a lot of my homies dead
Some of my homies Blue, a lot of my homies Red
On Bloods, I need that head, I'm tryin' to feel it in my legs
I'm trying to spend a little bread, fuck it up at Sakks, yeah
All my bitches drive Benz, I'll put you in a Benz
All my hoes conniving, they finesse them M's
Let a rich n***a slide in, oh yeah, yeah she did (oh yeah, yeah she did)
Before you fuck me, give that pussy a cleanse, yeah

[Chorus: Rich the Kid]
You ain't a boss you can't touch her
I might just paint the Bentley mustard
I got rich, that's on my mother
Say she love you, still can't trust her
Cop the porsche, drop the top, then I Speed Race it
But my frames, they Dior, I can't see baby
While your boyfriend a lame, I got mo' paper
Ran the money up now I got mo' haters