[Verse 1: Boo]
B.O.O. gets that dough
Blane rose gold while I got yo hoe
Don't even mention the flow
I don't even like rap
I just do it for the scrap
Got chrome on my lap
Toast on my lap
Cruisin' through the city
Fox fur on my back
Man you niggas is wack
Plus, this young money cream got me acting like that
'Cause nowadays I ain't gotta package that crack
Keep ties to the streets so I ain't gotta go back
Certified pimp, bona fide mack
I just really fall back
I don't chase that cat
'Cause Lil Boo just ain't no good
West side of Chi where shit gets so hood
Nigga act tough then he gon' get laid down
Look at my face nigga I don't play 'round
Holla at me
[Verse 2: Mack Maine]
Mack Maine, uh
Real as they come
Tommy on me ain't a Hilfiger son
Grip macks that blow
Pitch black, the clothes
Black Dickie fit, black hat, black Girbauds
Whip past my foes
In something they can't afford
Nah, I ain't talkin' about a Honda Accord
Young Money, the tour
Bad bitches adore
They let us all up in they valores
They say im so hood
Puff that good good
My freaks give good head
They all got good jug
Be in a black truck
Hittin' a kill bill
Im prolly with izzel
Baby you prolly with trill real
Runnin wit hotspitta
You know dat we G'd up
And hell yeah back in the G
We was re'd up
Im bout have seed
Gotta to raise my seed up
Now all my dogs in the bin
Nigga just feed up
B.O.O. gets that dough
Blane rose gold while I got yo hoe
Don't even mention the flow
I don't even like rap
I just do it for the scrap
Got chrome on my lap
Toast on my lap
Cruisin' through the city
Fox fur on my back
Man you niggas is wack
Plus, this young money cream got me acting like that
'Cause nowadays I ain't gotta package that crack
Keep ties to the streets so I ain't gotta go back
Certified pimp, bona fide mack
I just really fall back
I don't chase that cat
'Cause Lil Boo just ain't no good
West side of Chi where shit gets so hood
Nigga act tough then he gon' get laid down
Look at my face nigga I don't play 'round
Holla at me
[Verse 2: Mack Maine]
Mack Maine, uh
Real as they come
Tommy on me ain't a Hilfiger son
Grip macks that blow
Pitch black, the clothes
Black Dickie fit, black hat, black Girbauds
Whip past my foes
In something they can't afford
Nah, I ain't talkin' about a Honda Accord
Young Money, the tour
Bad bitches adore
They let us all up in they valores
They say im so hood
Puff that good good
My freaks give good head
They all got good jug
Be in a black truck
Hittin' a kill bill
Im prolly with izzel
Baby you prolly with trill real
Runnin wit hotspitta
You know dat we G'd up
And hell yeah back in the G
We was re'd up
Im bout have seed
Gotta to raise my seed up
Now all my dogs in the bin
Nigga just feed up
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