[Intro]
All the way (Cook it up, cut it up)
Huh? (Chop it up)
Uh-huh (Uh, uh), uh, uh, uh, uh
Uh-huh, for sure

[Verse 1: Baby]
Mack 10 say he got 'em and he serve 'em for six
But I'm the Birdman, n***a, I need to score some shit
I need a warehouse full with pet Rotts and bulls
Couple of choppers, MAC-11 and some Hot Boy hoods
My lil' bitch Keisha said she hit the mall for some goods
She gon' bring it straight to daddy, break her off with the wood
The beauty shop stay poppin' 'cause these zones keep rockin'
And my phone keep clockin' 'cause these hoes keep jockin'
Just bought a new 6 with the Brabus kit
Put me on the floor with two nines on my hip
The reason the drought 'cause the feds done bust' my ship
Got a crew of head busters that will split your shit
Got a old and young bitch that'll take that trip
Hit the strip with the work, four hundred a zip
Gave my n***a M the call, go break them bricks
Go flood that Magnolia 'cause I want that bitch
KC, take this Glock, make will of the spot
Tanto, Tito and Wap, y'all hug the block
And we gon' tell the police this this where money be clocked
And they can suck a n***a dick 'cause the hustle don't stop
[Chorus: Juvenile, Lil' Wayne, Turk]
You could beg, shorty, you could keep it dirty
You could cook a birdie, you could cut it and serve it
And I keep it real and I play the field
And I know when to deal and I know when to kill
And I get the guns and I collect the funds
And I make all the runs and I can play the drums
You could hang in the jungle, you could push them bundles
You could drive a Bentley, you could drive a Hummer (Look)

[Verse 2: Turk]
N***a know that I got that work, so he plottin' and watchin'
Tryna see when I'm gone so he could break in my housin'
I'ma bake a cake for 'em, make 'em think I'm out of town
I know he ear hustlin' I'm on my monkey talkin' loud
Tellin' my rounds, I'll be there, pick me up from the port
On my way to Nashville, ten bricks I'm gonna score
Probably get a lil' dope 'cause that dope make more money
Twenty dollars for a bag, half a grams for a hundred
The n***a just don't know I'm on top of my game
Should have keep it to himself, but instead he told Elaine
That "I'ma get that n***a Turk, so I got to bust his brains"
'Cause if I let that n***a slide, then he gon' try to do it again
So I gotta handle mine, get rid of the bitch quick
Bust him up fast, throw him in a lake and spilt
Jack who? Take what from who? Not me
Get a bullet in your head, leave that ass in the streets
[Chorus: Juvenile, Lil' Wayne]
You could beg, shorty, you could keep it dirty
You could cook a birdie, you could cut it and serve it
And I keep it real and I play the field
And I know when to deal and I know when to kill
And I get the guns and I collect the funds
And I make all the runs and I can play the drums
You could hang in the jungle, you could push them bundles
You could drive a Bentley, you could drive a Hummer

[Verse 3: Mack 10]
From the land of the drive-bys, low ridin' and shit talkin'
Sherm smoke, crack sellin', Blood and Crip walkin'
Mack 1-0's the name, n***a, hustlin' is my thang, n***a
CMR and west side, Hoo-Bang' is the gang, n***a
Recognize the G in me, off top we wig-splitters
Young and thuggin' like Turk and them head bustin' n***as, check it
I like the funk and shoot first is what they tell me
And no matter what it cost, Slim and Baby gon' bail me
I fight all my murders and dope cases from the bricks
Known and loved by every hoochie, bitch, and project chick
'Cause I floss ice and buy crack at the boss price
And I been fucked and sucked by all my hoes at least twice
I'm reppin' killa Cali, but down with them south n***as
You know, them uptown gold and platinum mouth n***as
Mack stay cocked and loaded, down to ride for the cause
We keep it crackin' from Crenshaw to the Mardi Gras
Chicken hawk, gang affiliated and drug related
I'm a drop-top Bentley pushin' n***a with my crop braided
From the feet up, G'd up is my everyday behavior
A million dollar n***a still rockin' Chuck Taylors
The feds worse then the jackers, tryna keep me in sight
Gotta take backstreets and alleys to get home every night
Mack is too much of a rider, I could never be a sucker
I'ma ball 'til I fall and keep it gangster as a motherfucker
[Chorus: Juvenile, Lil' Wayne]
You could beg, shorty, you could keep it dirty
You could cook a birdie, you could cut it and serve it
And I keep it real and I play the field
And I know when to deal and I know when to kill
And I get the guns and I collect the funds
And I make all the runs and I can play the drums
You could hang in the jungle, you could push them bundles
You could drive a Bentley, you could drive a Hummer

[Outro]
For sure, n***a
There you have it, boy
You understand?
N***a like me went on the west coast and planted some trees
And came up with a n***a named Mack Dime
So how you love that, n***a?
Like a man, you gotta admit it
Suga Slim, theatrics, n***a, we done did it
You understand?
Hot Boys for life
Cash Money Millionaires