[Chorus: Pusha T]
Is it them blings that make them watch us?
The awkward lean and 'em cars that’s topless
I got them things, I cut and chop it
I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money, say—

[Verse 1: Pusha T & Sandman]
Hands got the bubble touch, bike with the double-clutch
Two diamond jump ropes: My neck do the double-dutch
Give a fuck about such-and-such
On behalf of the Re-Up Gang, I’m saying, "'Nough’s enough"
Turn it, turn it—fire, burn it
Gram weight straight like a n***a just permed it
Pyrex and water, player—how I earns it
Lame rap n***as, I’m so not concerned with
On another level, my third bezel, my fourth gas pedal
Fifty-five on the back, I’m a daredevil
The course is paved, the watch is pavé
You n***as gotta love me, I'm something the Lord made (Yeah-ah, can-non)

[Verse 2: Sandman]
I got-gots to do it, do it
VVS, my jewelry
Don’t need no jury to find me guilty
I stay gaudy
Pockets bulky—how can y'all fault me?
Ghost-ride it—driver, what that mean?
You're small, welly, n***a fuck that beam
Us that team
Touch that cream, digital scale—what’s that scheme?
(It’s all real) Don't touch that thing (Fake!)
N***as faces get flattened and clapped-in
Squad want action—Re-Run, What’s Happening?
Every episode, the Tec exposed, Gotti body
Tsunami mamis, that gotta be why they watching
[Chorus: Pusha T & Sandman]
Is it them blings that make them watch us?
The awkward lean and 'em cars that’s topless
I got them things, I cut and chop it
I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money, say—
Zen zen zen zen zen zen (Zen)
Zen zen zen (Zen), zen zen zen zen zen zen (You're getting money, say—)
Zen z-zen, zen zen, zen zen
Zen zen, zen zen zen zen-zen-zen-zen

[Verse 3: Ab-Liva]
Now, how that forearm glow on 'em
Feeling so grown on 'em
I pitch work, sort of like Nomo on 'em
Snow on 'em, cover my tracks, low on 'em
So on 'em—streets, I push blow on 'em
The car drop with the soft top like Bose on 'em
Rolls on 'em, go on 'em, I’m striking a pose on 'em
No opponent can come close, match tone on it
Flow on it, honed on it, I’m feeling at home on it
It’s Liva, the rider, the man—they hang clothes on 'em
With the belt, the matching shoes, the G-soles on 'em
I’m classic, the plastic got O's on 'em
I rolls on 'em, the self-murder doors close on 'em

[Verse 4: Malice]
Yeah, good gosh, a'mighty
All we do is cook raw, push cars like Whitey
Like a moth to a flame, it’s so inviting
To opposite sexes, the stones so precious
Still in the Rezzy, G4, or Lear
No diamond in that bezzy, I get grown-er every year
Pay me for that feature—that don't make it family
All is see is blackface and you singing "Mammy"
I’m from the old school, when the Gat was a jammy
Twin four-fifs: The resemblance is uncanny
I bust both in sync—y’all n***as hear me
Now that’s what I call "the big bang theory"
[Chorus: Pusha T & Sandman]
Is it them blings that make them watch us?
The awkward lean and 'em cars that’s topless
I got them things, I cut and chop it
I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money, say—
Zen zen zen zen zen zen
Zen zen zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen (Getting money, say—)
Zen z-zen, zen zen, zen zen
Zen zen, zen zen zen z-z-zen