[Intro]
Yo, turn me up

[Verse 1: Foxy Brown]
What ya'll know bout bangin' out?
Till there's nothin' left stash box mag 4s all up in the dashboards
Look, ya'll think we get this cash for?
We gon' front till we die
Throw that money in the sky homie
I rock them Louis' ya'll know already
But it's necessary I styles in Burberry
Young Fox I run hip-hop
N***as know them hits won't stop bet them clips will pop
Bet I be in that big body Rover
Frontin' hard in the squad L-V on the loafers
And I'm an ill bitch I'm styled like I'm 'posed to
N***as in the bin gettin' right off my posters
In the pearl white hatch back, black
Got my swagger back and I don't know how to act n***a
My groove is on my team is strong
Hey yo Gav please bring them motherfuckin' horns in

[Hook: Young Gavin]
This is what we came to do
Gettin' money playboy we ain't playin' wit' you
Who the one that got the streets on lock
Somebody better call the cops
What we doin' huh?
We makin' it
Fever hit
Ya'll know it's Fox
She keeps it hot
[Verse 2: Foxy]
And I bring it to bitches for real
Special delivery
Five years strong and they still tryin' to get rid of me
But I'm still here n***as
I do this for Gav to keep them young boys runnin' through the ave
Have the team lookin' good I be's in the hood
Dubs on the wheels and B's on the hood
Pop 50 bottles
Halo to Hollywood
I'm so gutter Acki sweat suit with the hood
Might flip it on these bitches and throw on the Plein Sud
Wit a real good shoot lookin' real fucking good
Start our her label, she'll never be able
Now I styles on n***as and I turn the tables
Now meetings with Kev and Lyor at the round table
In a three-quarter butter brown Sable
Ya'll n***as hustlin' deals and I'm still on the grind
Tryin' to appeal still beatin' Russell for mils

[Hook: Young Gavin]
This is what we came to do
Gettin' money playboy we ain't playin' wit' you
Who the one that got the streets on lock
Somebody better call the cops
What we doin' huh?
We makin' it
Fever hit
Ya'll know it's Fox
She keeps it hot
[Verse 3: Foxy]
I rate the weak movin' a brick in half a week
And it's hard to eat in these Brooklyn streets
The truth is you bitches only live in a booth
I move big sixty deuce that's Prada goose n***a
Throw our money out our prowler roof I'm about to tightin' the noose they talkin' loose
Man, me and Gav in them Lacs, Tyson's bout to get them belts back
Brooklyn's back n***a