Bitch, where your clothes
Why they ain't on the floor?
Player, where is your money
How you get in the door?
Colored lights like a disco
Downing shots like a missile
Put a stamp on that ass
Now that ass is official
Who getting sick from the thizzin'?
Who got grease in they kitchen?
Who got dollars for pussy?
Who the fuck is you kidding?
Who got kids at home?
Don't say nothing
Take your shirt off, show 'em something
Woah, hold up
Swag, swag, swag, throw up
Yeah, you got the club smelling like ass
Last asses still standing, gon' get it some cash
So get it, get it, get it, get it, get it

N***as out in line like there's nothing еlse to do
But it's nothing else to do with a linе full of n***as
Aiming at the bar, like you waiting for a shot
'Til somebody pull the trigger, now everybody dipping
Get them flipping out the door, whip it work, India Jones
Raid this bitch, indeed it though
Fuck the world 'til tomorrow come
It's more abundant be alone
Pour a blunt and drink the smoke
For the sun up, re-up more
The more you plan to be afloat
Everybody going like, "gotta get it, get it gone"
Get it 'til that shit is gone
Get it 'til them bitches, bitches, bitches, bitches, bitches know
Set the record set in stone
Set in metal, cell a' phone
N***as reppin', reppin', more
Reppin' more, now get it, get it, get it
Yeah
Light that propane and sizzle
Play that dope game a fiddle
Your aim is set, how you mobbing
Working at night like you Kimmel
Hipsters sip that kombucha while my pimp juice is organic
I slang that shit out the sliver of my pants zipper, god damn it
Where the fuck my hoes at?
Where the fuck my robe at?
I am that trapping Hefner
Spilling Remy on my throwback
Three bitches in my Nova comatose, they robo rocking
One of them naked, playing with pussy while holding my johnson
Yup, yup, now put your mouth down on it
And get it, get it, get it
Take a breath and lick it
Get it, get it, like you're protein deficient
I want to Instagram this and have 20 people like it
And thumbs up to the camera so these hoes know they're invited

Cocaine up to the ceiling
Fiends is snorting the roof
Stroll in front of the club
Daddy buying some shoes
Bouncer brawling and beating them eggheads down to the yolk
Collared shirts in a line, fuck that line, it's a joke
Ahahahaha, punch lines
Get it? Punch lines
Get it, get it, get that rum punch
Laughing at a motherfucker's lost lunch
Throwing bowls, swelling eyes, getting baked, selling pies
Flipping birds, counting money, snort it 'til their nose is runny
Blood is tripping
This blood is cripping
Leave this blood crippled
Then everybody dipping
Get it, get it, get it, get it
Woah