Look right here, this how we goin' do this
Hook up the turn tables, whoof get on the keyboard
And we goin' run this for you, ya heard?
Yeah, check it out

Cash Money [Repeat: x4]

Hey, let me slide in the Benz with the fished-out fins
Hit the mall wit my girlfriends dish out ends
Cause you know it ain't tricking if you got it
Copped baby girl what she desired
It's chump change ma, Marijuana skyler
Know'n what I got up in my styraphone cup, that purple stuff
It was given to me at birth an stuff
So that's why I cop the Bentley with the leather and the furry cups

Hey, hold on mami them whips on dubs
Cadillac Truck, 28's, no rubs
Slide in the Benz, fins, bubble-eyed lens
Car show in New York, y'all know who wins
It's the Birdman daddy, with the Gucci Prada
Slant back Cup Truck, no rims, can't holla
It's that Louie Fendi on Ostrich streets
It's the tailor-made daddy, mami do you love me?

[Chorus]
Baby, I'm a stunna
I ain't goin' change it
Don't, you, know, it's a way of life?
Mami, do you want it?
Cause I'm about to bring it
Oh baby, can't stop the stun, no, no

Pop one, pop two with the blue Nike shoes
Royal blue jag on 'em 22's
Slippers, white to breathe, 500 Degreez
In that Cadillac Truck on 'em 23's
I'm the boss of the game with the money and fame
All these, naked women that pop Champaign
And these, marble floors stay high as Rick James
If you know my name then you know my game

It's Lil' Whoody from the Hot Block where series flow
Gotta get dough, cha'll won't feel me blow
But, y'all don't hear me though
Til I'm rolling down my window where my grill is show
And you know I probably pump it through the hood on them 24's
Word, rims poking out the side of the err
Glock, have ya rims poking out the side of your shirt
I'm a 17 nigga and I ride through the turf

[Chorus]

Hey, and my pinky glow cause my rings is so,
Blingy blingy, yo stop blinking though
We smoke stinky stinky dro
And we don't cop them incy wincy o's
And we don't stop, nah, we blow
Fuck the people
Everywhere we go we smell like ick yo
Birdman, my Paw so that make me go, fly like an eagle, fasheezy

See they think cause I stay English turn
That stunna don't ever OZ to burn
I go in each sto' and ball like a dog
Me and my niggs ball like a dog
Cars on my streets, all on the lawn
Ice in my teeth, all on my arm
Tats in my face, my back and my arm

Tats in my face, my back and my arm

[Chorus]

Yo, there it is, ya lil' low life
See, I'm a professional, you a rookie
Fuck, a game so serious I could sell a hooker some pussy
That's some serious shit
Oh yeah, believe that
Who we rolling with?
We rolling wit Cash Money
Oh, I forgot about peace, Peace!
I mean, piece of pussy, piece of land, piece of property
Just a mind game
Piece of mind, ya know
Piece of something, motherfucker!

Writer : HITCHINGS, DUANE S/LAMBERT, DENNIS EARLE/GOLDE, FRANNE
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., UNIVERSAL MUSIC-CAREERS