[Intro: Birdman]
Already, know what I'm sayin
This Birdman and this is how its goin down
The lil' young'n, Yo Gotti I certified the n***a
Stamped to approve you feel me and the J.R
I see like n***as must be..
They got us fucked up, they got us fucked up
They got us fucked up, we been movin birds bitch
They got us fucked up, they got ya fucked up
They get ya fucked up, we been movin birds bitch (yeah)

[Hook: Birdman, Yo Gotti]
Quarters and halves, chick-chickens and bricks
Ball-ballers of dope, and ounces and shit
Quarters and halves, chick-chickens and bricks
Ball-ballers of dope, and ounces and shit (I got em)
Get what they lookin for, keep what they lookin for
All they got to do is tell me what they lookin' for
I'm da dopeman, dopeman, dopeman, dopeman
I got em'

[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
Alright, yeah
Money to be made, best believe a n***a got it
I run it myself, like a quarter back option
I pitch ya ten g's, tell a bitch to go shoppin
She buys ha' self some clothes and she brought me back a chopper
See n***a try to cook it, but know I dont play sucker
I'm all about my cake, I'm tryin to marry Betty Crocker
A package on the way, you know my whip game proper
Ya know for one ki, I see seven thousand dollars
Now I will shoot dice, smokin on a joint
I bet with Yo Gotti, he hit five straight points
We over here hustlin, we over here grindin
We rap about money, and a n***a might sign ya
Rap about me, and a n***a might find ya
Banana in ya ass, its what you hear right behind ya
Dope game bitch, let his momma where I bought em
You can holla at me, a feat
[Hook]

[Verse 2: Yo Gotti]
Another bird man with the bird land got a twenty piece
Gotti know charge to Memphis twenty-two a piece
Now I'm in the kitchen with a beacon and a blender
Low key and a rental with them things in the fenders
Yeah I'm goin ten grand, January to December
But theres no winter, summer, Gotti lookin like a winner
I'm goin back to Cali', I got to get the light green
Mexico Valley, you know they got them pan trees
Eighteen wheeler, now I'm on I-10
On my way to Memphis, I got to get my hands in
I come from the north where gangstas gon' grind
Bitch n***as gon' whine, and hustlas gon' shine
Everybody say they trappin'
But most of these n***as lying
I told Slim, I told Stunna, I'm waiting for my time
You can rock it and pop it click clack I shot em
Chopper bullets burn, I GOT EM

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Birdman]
Yeah, yeah
Back where I started on my set and black
Hopped out the passenger side of my back
Under my nuts was two ounces of crack
But in my palm I had that chromed out Mac
Shinin on them bitches cause n***a I'm 'bout that
Flip a quarter bird, and score a whole sack
Pull up to the club in the old school 'Lac
With a bitch ridin fly, so how you love that
Its grind time n***a been about that
We flippin birds, let them hoes go to Saks
We livin large with the garbage bag fat
Want the money and the power, real n***as gon' stack
And ride fly, twenty-fives on the back
Plushed out n***a, keep a few stacks
Out the hood, bout money and that's that
And if you ever cross the line, best believe you get waxed
[Hook]

[Outro: Birdman]
Yeah ya understand me n***a
We the motherfuckin stunnas n***a
Young Money, Cash Money n***a
Yo Gotti what it do stunna n***a
Feel me thats how its goin down
We puttin it down
Money, money, money
Get it, money, get it, 100, ya heard me
Thats how its goin down n***a, yeah