[Intro: Pressa]
Charlie B
Uh, yeah
The Cuban links play freeze tag up on the wrist, ayy
The Cuban links play freeze tag up on the wrist, for real
Yeah, uh

[Verse 1: Pressa]
Way too much blood, sweat and tears for a n***a
Might just fuck [?], 50,000 on a thriller
Your boyfriend a bitch you know he a fuck n***a
I'ma just [?], so I don't need to kill it
Now she [?], get a lil' bit of money
Your boyfriend a bitch, you postin' that n***a money
Kidnap a n***a and his bitch, lil' sonny
Kidnap a n***a in this bitch like sonny
If we see opps we gon' slide on the opps
I was at the studio where Pac got shot
I was selling crack and mama said stop
I was selling crack, mama said get a job (For real)
Bitch I'm in the hood like the crack like Biggie
Shoulda seen my n***a how he did the whole 80
My n***as go crazy, [?] 80
Whole lotta junkies, I was kicking it with any
Na na na na, I'm thе realest as it get
Pеople call me Pressa 'cause I don't got stretch
Crodie going crazy with an Audemar Piguet
I keep on tellin' mama we ain't runnin' out of bread
Na na na na, 'cause shit too easy
Police chasin' n***a but [?] Weezy
Cold in the city, she wan' wear a bikini
And I'm with Houdini, he gon' play like a genie
And she know nothing, she got nothing to rat on
She could fall off and get up and get back on
And when she grow up she wanna go get her bag on
[?] say Camron
[Verse 2: NorthSideBenji]
Yeah, see I started in the trap on the day shift
N***a, whoever knew that I would make it?
See, I been gettin' back up on my feet
I'm tryna fill this lil' shoe box [?]
My dog he open up new locks up with them keys (For real, yeah)
See I just sent out 2 new Glocks out with that cheese
The Cuban links play freeze tag up on the wrist
[?] on a bitch (For real)
And I got shooters in the game like EA
I know a couple real killer like Wee-Bay
And all this envy in their hearts, it's a pity
I just [?] in me, for real, dawg

[Verse 3: Tory Lanez]
Ayy, I got a similar stash up in the city
Forgiato dip on the dash what I got in it
It's a pretty little bitch with a bag and print infinity
And any n***a winnin', they got similar tags to what I'm spinnin'
I got big big money on the bag, my n***a
My bitch'll fuck me on the jet and get no lag, my n***a
It's Goyard luggage when I go to bag, my n***a
It's no brag, pussy n***a, know the tab, my n***a
I got a Lamborghini muffler, got heat, ayy
And I got a trap house that's doubling every week, ayy
Then I got a Rolls, big slippers on the toes
Just so I could stunt up on these pussy n***as with the feet
Still I got the trap jumpin' in a B
My shooter got a mag dumpin' in their jeans
N***as hatin' on me, flak comin' out his teeth
'Cause ain't no pussy shit ain't ever come up out of me, no no no
[Verse 4: Houdini]
Yo, made a couple hundred racks and never even had to sit up in the bando
Ayy, rickety rack after rack, stack 'til it can't fold, hundreds and fifties
Cro' on the run and he still got them Glizzys
Ain't tryna fuck if I don't got no Jimmy's
Come make a milli' while I'm independent
She got a thing for a young n***a livin'
That n***a washed like he doin' the dishes
Love it when you call a n***a big daddy
Make a n***a wanna get a big Patek
Been in the trap with [?]