[Intro: Crooked I]
Yeah, I'm feeling like Jay Z on Reasonable Doubt
My first debut album probably be my last, it's all good though
Us COB boys we out here, n***as say: "Are y'all some d-boys?"
N***a, we d-boys, we weed-boys, pill-boys, syrup-boys
Whatever it take to get the money, ya know what I mean?
Ghostwrite y'all n***as some lyrics, whatever y'all n***as need, man
We out here (haha)
Y'all motherfuckers never seen n***as like us
We the real deal, we the real movement
Hold on I gotta take this call, I holla at you in a minute

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
N***as prolly in top of the Cosmopolitan
Olive in the dirty martini, we be the Parliament
The C.O.B conglomerate get the camera and document
The opposite of nonsense n***a, we building monuments
Power moves avoiding them shower shoes cause
Fuck a con, fuck a P.O. man
You cowards lose, screw you in your county blues
See our views is to get money like Howard Hughes do
Limited liability corporations based in Vegas for less tax and wasted wages
Taste the Asian cuisine
We conversate over a plate of that Red 8, that's chopsticks and sake
Win like Steven the architect, believing in our connects
With all respect, the hot bitches watch me
Feel the mob vibe when the COB hits the lobby
We not with the cocky, we confident
N***as walking across the casino floor like Sam Rothstein
Striding like Goliath and we ain't sweating the small things
We all kings, turn Vegas into New Orleans
Get cash money with no limit, man we talk green
Woman eavesdrop but sweety you need not
You can join us, let me show you the way that G's rock
Never touch your purse, your chair or your door handle
Chivalry is dead for boys, I'm more man though
Love it when your Prada dress hotter than Orlando
Picture perfect portrait like you're posing for Van Gogh
The crap table, we sipping on black label
I'm loyal, I die for my brothers, I'm rap's Abel
I'm torn from the cloth of the Gods, defeating all the odds
You fake rap n***as y'all the facade
Y'all the miraged, meanwhile I'm talking to broads
Like after this awesome massage we can talk a ménage
Out in Vegas on business
[Hook: K-Young & (Crooked I)]
We out in Vegas on business
My briefcase full of big face Benjie's
We flying by you on the freeway
We spending, we spending
Like all this money burning my pocket
(Conducting organized business, business)
Like all this money burning my pocket
(Conducting organized business, business)
Out in Vegas on business

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
Yeah, let's hit the strip and smash
Bright casino lights bouncing off the tinted glass
Pull up to the Caesars Palace, pour Louis in the glass
Bartender didn't ask, I'm a repeat customer
It's written on my face, I'm a elite hustler
If life is a bitch I'mma just keep fucking her
Raised in the gutta and I don't miss my home
Italian sports car, French cologne
Of African descent blackened by the sun, dark skin Capone
On capitalism, a rapper eating rappers so that's cannibalism
Yeah, you bastards shoud listen I'm on a Hannibal mission
A Carthaginian king burying gold
Bringing the troops to the 702 area code
Meet on the roof of that Bellagio
The helicopter's waiting on the helipad
Talking code when we in front of that pilot though
Keep our business on the quiet yo
It's hoes in the desert for whoever try to know
Ay yo, land this muhfucka on the Venetian
They got a decent Louis store, I need some shit for this evening
See they finally let the G's win, celebrate our achievements
Pussy n***as don't wanna see they better leave then
We here on business, we mixing it with pleasure
We some pussy pirates these bitches getting the hidden treasure
I bet your boyfriend he can tell you're getting fresher
Like, "where did you get them shoes and that shit that's in your dresser?"
Your Vegas trip with your girls was so regular
Till you ran across me and my predators
We caught you slipping and this ain't shit but a business trip
When you tell him use censorship
We in Vegas on business, conducting organized biz
[Hook]

[Outro]
15 freeway to be exact (haha)