| Because I’m hot — smoke designer pot | 
| 'Bout to make a movie, so don’t act like a groupie | 
| I’m loopy, loopy, right | 
| Loopy, loopy, right | 
| My Coupe look like Bruce Wayne’s | 
| Trapped on some new chains | 
| Few rings, some new chains | 
| My whip wide, need two lanes | 
| They doped up, need new veins | 
| Fresh like first school days | 
| Hot kicks, some cool shades | 
| I’m looped up like shoe strings | 
| I’m shootin' game at your bitch | 
| And she ain’t got a vest on | 
| Superman in this bitch | 
| I ain’t even got my S on | 
| Your house on my necklace | 
| Your whip on my left arm | 
| Straight candy paint on that Chevrolet | 
| And she gassed up like Chevron | 
| Hear them talk, but we don’t care | 
| Roll up on 'em like a wheelchair | 
| Coke Boyz, we all in | 
| Her pussy wide, I fall in | 
| Both inside and ballin' | 
| My bitch imported from Berlin | 
| My cut like Bruce Lee | 
| Top off that new V | 
| All about that loose leaf | 
| Ball hard like 2−3 | 
| Stones on my wrist glass | 
| 12 on my bitch bag | 
| I catch wreck like gym class | 
| I’m looped up like Six Flags | 
| I’m loopy, everything’s signed and sealed | 
| I’m gettin' paid even when I chill | 
| They say chill don’t pay the bills | 
| But I’mma have to disagree | 
| That shit don’t apply to me | 
| Right, ain’t a nigga higher | 
| Gold member, no lines, priority flying | 
| Australia like «what up, mate?» | 
| Smokin' on some sour | 
| Eatin' mahi mahi, sippin' on Açaí | 
| Right, perps of the game | 
| Little man from Spain holding up my name | 
| Round table meetings with the bosses of the game | 
| For the Obama campaign | 
| A nigga was tryna get this change | 
| Boys get no air time | 
| Really, I’m too loopy to even care, god | 
| I bought my bitch a new whip | 
| But me, I’d rather wear mine | 
| I’m looped up like Six Flags | 
| I’m looped up like Six Flags | 
| I’m looped up like Six Flags | 
| I catch wreck like gym class | 
| I’m looped up like Six Flags |