[Verse 1]
Uh
They say success, is the best revenge
That's the reason I'm always on my grind
I promise to God, I ain't got no paper to lend
Ya'll motherfuckers, must be out ya'll mind
And I don't really give a fuck, if you be family or friend
I ain't giving up one god damn dime
I'm leaving all you bitches behind
I'm leaving all you bitches behind, that's right
Z-Ro the Crooked, King of the Ghetto, and the Mo City Don
That's a hell of a man
And he ain't trying to buy no wolf tickets either homie
So ain't no use in selling em man
You damn right, a hell of a hustle ain't got get you nothing but some hell of a grands
No feeling like money in my hand
Money over bitches I know you understand, that's right

[Hook]
I'm doing just fine, homie I don't need no help
Especially when it comes, to spending my wealth
I'm doing just fine, I'm one deep because I love myself
Envy and jealousy, is bad for my health
I'm doing just fine, without you in my life
I don't need you in my life, I don't want you in my life
All I want is the cash
All of ya'll can kiss my ass
[Verse 2]
I'm still a gangsta, pussy n***as better stay up out my way
Frown on my face, I'm holding my H.K
Handling bidness, digging ditches everyday hey
Still a gangsta, pussy n***as better stay up out my way
And I'ma be a real n***a, until I'm old and grey
And the whole world wanna know, just what I've got to say
S.U.C., until I D-I-E
That's all I, ever will be
I'ma keep holding it down, and doing this damn thing for my town
None of you bitches, ain't gotta come around
And its gon be like that, till I'm in the ground that's right

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
I use to have a love jones, for this chick named Lisa
Now my love jones, is for the Mastercard or the Visa
Ain't no love in my heart, homie it's Cole like Keisha
Nine ounces in the door panel, a couple of mo' in the speaker
I get a ticket down in Texas, ain't gon give em a reason
To put me in jail it's even, and gone a couple of seasons
I'm trying to stack my paper taller, than a great dane
Joseph Wayne McVey ain't saving no bitches, cause he ain't got a cape mayn
Bitch, you ain't smoking my weed for free
And don't offer me none of your raggedy booty, that ain't nothing to me
And while ya'll getting-getting some head, I'm getting-getting some bread
And while ya'll fellas relaxing, I'll be getting-getting ahead
Screwed Up Click, until I die
Mayn I'm so high, I don't think I can drive
That's why I'm riding shotgun, with my shotgun
One n***a disrepect, and get your whole block done done
[Hook]

[talking in background of hook]
Ha-ha, King of the Ghetto Entertainment
(yeah, not on me) Rap-A-Lot Records in this bitch
(in my life), what it do Big Chief
What up J, what up all my n***as in Mo City
We on our motherfucking own n***a, you know I'm saying
The down South shit n***a, Screwston Texas n***a (ay)
Al-motherfucking-ready (ay), heavy like a '57 Cheve (ayyyyaaaay)
Already going down country tunes, R.I.P. Pimp
Still going down in the South, bitch yeah