[Verse 1 - Meek Bought a brand new loft, five thousand a my sour is special, hundred dollars a blunt Only smoke if proper, in the words of Big Poppa his ass to the doctors, took the sacks and we shot you Blocka-blocka-bla-blocka, warn his ass them chopper It'll be a faggot, automatic kicking like soccer popping it's popping, twenty bitches around us I just her the numbers, so if she hit me I count her I the pinky, hit her right like winky Got the club looking cloudy, for the of the stinky In a 600 Benz, a bitches they friends And we getting started, these haters wishing we end nose on these hoes, niggas fishing again Notice she swallow with those, like it on her chin Niggas left me for dead, bitch I'm living Special chopper official, they see my vision
[Chorus - Meek Mill & Young Know a party, we see the sparkles, they coming Standing on couches, bitches surround us, we We travel the globe, stop in town, and run it And you already know, cuff them hoes tonight, we to run it Because we motherfucking hoe (Paid hoe) And all cream, blow that paper like the haze hoe Life's a beach, I'm in the sun my shades After the club we take the bitch and lay low Hey hoe (Hey hoe) Hey hoe (Hey hoe) After the club we get the baddest and lay low Hey hoe (Hey hoe) Hey hoe (Hey hoe) After the club we the baddest bitch and lay low
2 - Young Chris] Maserati dipping, wrist me a chicken Neck cost a Bentley, think I'm finna a ticket Got a fetish for Ferraris, and fucking bad Smoke a nigga like I'm Marley all we is lot of niggas The summer's mine, Jordan 9 I came in on these niggas like a young LeBron In front bitches, hit them on the lot Came in with main hoe, your ? Young Chris, eat a dick, we the shit We really balling you just talking about a Smith I let my do the talking, I just plead the fifth I'm on my Metro, just call me if you a brick
[Verse 3 - It's the with bacon, all these rappers be hating hella facts, hella facts, got me past immigrations To my fans, they had me stuck at the border See the brighling, big Bent', I think bastards is rascist Call me boy, we be off to the races And no negating Smith & Wesson leave you boy We be up in the clubs, with two chains boy Got it popping, niggas mad, they all up in our faces Got bottles Rosay, shots of Patron All them chicks take to the dome Hit right here trying to follow me to his Impala, I'm gone