[Intro]
Yea... Yea... Yea
This ain't no mixtape
Damn we might have just named my album
Yea... Yea... uh

[Verse 1]
Grey polo sweats yellow gold rolex
Blue facial mask, ya'll n***as ain't on that
One of the best rappers, you ain't heard yet
Though over the years I've enjoyed minor success
Where would underground rap be minus the jets?
At home living inside it's all kind of depressed
Gotta watch where I step, there's all kind of traps
Trying to keep me on the ground, I ain't got time for that
Trying to put me in my rhymes where we supposed to be at
Fly society mansion with swimming pools in the back
New Orleans what's happenin?
Yea your dude is back
Might see me in traffic in the Caprice classic
With the windows crackin, it's me flicking my ashes
Cut the check and I cash it
Blow it all on glasses
95 air maxes and mad pounds of Cali
No socks with the bad ones them bitches keep lookin at me
[Hook]
I'm on top of the money [x3]
Like the dope boy mattress
Passin broads in my car they be pointin at it
I'm on top of the money, like the dope boy mattress
I'm on top of the money [x3]
Like the dope boy mattress
Passin broads in my car they be pointin at it
I'm on top of the money
Like the dope boy mattress

[Verse 2]
I'm on top of the money
Like the dope boy mattress
Got deals on the table, silverwares and napkins
The right moves they help me take care of my family
Two coups will make me more of a chick magnet
Spitta destined for greatness I always knew it would happen
I just laid in the Gap like one of the store mannequins
From the back burnin my attack I was plannin it
And now I'm bendin corners in the Nomad Wagon
Sittin them 22s with the staggered fittin
Fishtail tail whippin I'm burnin rubber my tires spinnin
Spittin what I'm livin never lyin in my lines
I'm the truth in the booth hit it real when I rhyme
They see me on my grind and they be like aw shit
Spitta fly that plane he gone make em all rich
We just do our thing we don't listen to your shit
We just listen to ourselves we the n***as ya'll bit