[Mr. Fool Up]
Yea, we got Zaytoven on the muthafuckin' beat (Zay-tiggy)
Young Scooter, Killa Skip, me myself (who that is?)
It's yo boy, Mr. Fool Up
Shoutout to all my muthafuckin road runners out there, though
We be runnin' the mu'fuckin streets, dough
All we know is grindin and that's how we is

[Verse 1: Young Scooter]
My cellphone ringing yea I know the number (naw)
Last thing I heard n***a was an informer (he were)
Shot a text to my phone like he need two (damn)
Tell em what 'chu want, n***a, I ain't served you (naw)
When you get street money, that's what you go through (tax-free)
I got bricks too (bricks), you know what I do (yea)
Rest in peace, and Phatty, (Boosie?) beat his case
Phatt told me 'fore he died my music make em take it
They grindin in the truck, and it's alot of {cake?} (salute)
Dead presidents equal murder cases (yea)
That's if you in the streets, em n***as ain't playin' (uh-uh)
It takes a whole lot to be a Bossman!

[Hook: Mr Fool Up and crew]
We some Road Runners (yea), We stay runnin' all the time
On the road doing shows, then it's right back to the grind
We still busy, n***a (yea), chasing after doller signs
Aww, this {judge?] makin my money multiply, everyday we countin' up
5's, 10's, 20's, 50's and them 100's (count it out)
Break down sales, (like?) we're print money, (count it out)
It takes a lot to be a boss in the streets
I'm countin' money, even when I go to sleep
Everyday I'm counting up
[Verse 2: Mr Fool Up]
I live a crazy life, everyday my schedule be so hectic
I wake up thinkin' 'bout money so I go out there and get it
There's plenty of ways to get paid, so I always keep a mission
That's the end of limelight, cause too many n***as be snitchin'
Jail bars and fences, I ain't trying to live that way
So I buzz a war on myself, now I'm quarterback in all my plays
All you Wile E. Coyotes can stay the fuck from out my way
If the conversation ain't 'bout money, then I ain't got nothin to say
Hard work, no play, that's my attitude everyday
I hit the block so aggressive cause I'm in love with big faces
Run them streets like we racist, instead of punchin' the clock
The only nine to five I know is to serve the whole block

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Killa Skip]
I'm running that road I'm a bread runner
Straight trafficking work with a headhunter
Got 5% take for the sled sucker
That sack in the trunk that's Fed numbers
Keep iron on my lap I'm a lead dumper
Sneak dissing my trap I'll redrum ya
Heart puncture, lung puncture, dome shot ya, head lump ya
Petty-ass n***as I call 'em losers
I rock with n***as who make maneuvers
Entrepreneurs, distributors, like Fool Up and Young Scooter
You want that work I'll get it to ya
My coke stepped on like horse manure
Ain't have my money then you that shoot up
I lift my tool up, your pushing tulips
I'm a gat packer, manufacture, stack junkie, money maniac, uh
Boss, that n***a talk shit to crackers
Better check your ho, cause I'm a bitch slap 'er
Better hide your child, I'm a kidnap 'em
You'll get em right back when you pay the ransom
Double stock from Lou keep a n***a handsome
When its time to chicken up Killa Skip the man, son
[Hook]