[Intro]
Yeah, Dj Clue?
To all the killers and the hundred-dollar billers
Ha-ha, to real niggas who ain't go no feelings
Check it out now, yeah

[Verse 1]
You got to fuck with my realness
I'm sick with it like I'm stuck with a illness
It ain't luck that I'm still rich
Just more reason for me to tuck and conceal this
Your boy might have to hit a fuck-nigga kill switch
Snap right back to me standin' in the projects
Bakin' soda, boxes son handin' me the Pyrex
We was small then, but the plan was to be
The world is yours plan, but, man, I need that Nas Lex
Sc 400, that's all your boy wanted
And the light-skinned shorty
from next door that's frontin'
She couldn't see that I was that next boy or somethin'
Maybe I just needed to flex more or somethin'
Now I hit that fuckin' Rolex store for nothin'
And I could teach niggas, give lectures on stuntin'
And if I need a bitch, I could text yours or somethin'
Then she don't see me the next tour tour or somethin'
Shit crazy right, imagine me when I was twenty-three
Ridin' through Brooklyn, realizin' it's only one of me
Notice that I'm who the wannabes want to be
It feelin' like all of y'all don't want none of me
In this kitchen, step back and watch the chef cook
My corner told me, "Counter jabs with a left hook"
And give me mine, you don't want to see my stress look
I drive through with the mask, lookin' like Westbrook
Cash me out, for the twenty Gs I'm in there
Now multiply it by how many times I been here
Forty Gs for the show with the in-ears
Dog, I ain't hit a Atm in ten years
There's a difference in gettin' money and got money
I'm just a winner with a pocket full of pot money
I ain't judgin', baby, go and get that thot money
You better stay for a rainy day when it's not sunny
You know niggas change just like the weather
Get in one argument and just like, "Whatever"
Meet a new bitch who look just like whoever
People sayin', "Wasn't they just, like, together? "
My bitch ass feel so soft just like my leather
Got a good head on her, I just like 'em clever
This life forever, fuck the lame, mad shit
You wouldn't look this good in the same-ass fit
I'll give it to you niggas on some Aim Blast shit
Then give it to your sons on some Dame Dash shit, boy
You niggas ain't bosses anyway
A nine-to-five beat a ten-to-life any day

[Hook]
Get your money cause ain't no thing as halfway crooks
You scared to death, you scared to look
You shook cause ain't no thing as halfway crooks
You scared to death, you scared to look
You shook cause ain't no thing as halfway crooks
You scared to death, you scared to look
You shook cause ain't no thing as halfway crooks