[Verse 1: Nick Grant]
You ain’t getting money my n***a fuck is you doing
Big Willie, couple hunnies right by the pool ledge
Keep fucking with Nick's it get ugly like Patrick Ewing
All that whining over bread I swear I think it communion
Man I got what you want, what this industry needed
N***as thinking they cold, oh no you should have cheated
Keisha blowing on reefer, she suck like she started teething
Bet that chopper get to drumming like Sheila E on a remix
She say you so dope, pray you don’t end up like Lou Lou
Run but you can’t hide they gone find your ass like Google
You ain’t trying to build they gone knock a n***a screw loose
Reach that boiling point and they gone cook your Ramen noodle
This is real shit, spread love Take 6, n***a what is love, simply fear and hate mixed
N***as can’t fuck with me, living Theo Huxtably
This is Maggie off the paci I’m just staying sucka free
If you trying to make it happen got to run that shit by me
Bitch you only love me when I post that fly shit on IG
Fuck police, dress code tuck your piece
Trying to brush up on the game since they say we out of reach. Preach

[Hook]
I swear to god I’m on my way, but these pussy n***as trying to hate
I swear they ain’t bout nothing, these n***as they ain’t bout nothing
I’m still gone get this money yea
And she said she can’t fuck wit me
Unless I’m popping on the TV screen
But I swear she ain’t bout noting, these bitches they ain’t about nothing
I’m still gone get this money yea
[Verse 2: Nick Grant]
Damn I love this life money out the stash spot
You ain’t from the hood never seen them like they sasquatch
Tired of sonning n***as like they just moved out their dad’s spot
Boy we balling pull up on your miss like a bad shot
Money what we been bout gone ahead back the Benz out
She pull that Phillip Lim out only thing sweet is the penthouse
Let me know, if you got it bet some more
Thought I told these n***as, that I got a flow for every coast
This is god given cause the n***as like me rarely blow
Fuck a million man I need a B I feel like Kelly Ro
Love me I make the songs to fuck me she fucking dumb
My local face on your arm, my tape is taking too long
Bagging up all this green, I ain’t raking no lawn
If everything is at stake, then make it filet mignon
Watching these corny rappers. Look out they take your bars
My n***as, street magicians, watch how they pull your card. For real

[Hook]
I swear to god I’m on my way, but these pussy n***as trying to hate
I swear they ain’t bout nothing, these n***as they ain’t bout nothing
I’m still gone get this money yea
And she said she can’t fuck wit me
Unless I’m popping on the TV screen
But I swear she ain’t bout noting, these bitches they ain’t about nothing
I’m still gone get this money yea