| Everyday I wake up I say a pray-uh | 
| Thank the Lord for the fact that nigga hey-uh | 
| Round of a applause, got a lot of work to spay-uh | 
| Transactions bring that paper upstairs | 
| Gotta make sure all that money there | 
| I don’t play when come to them onions | 
| Take them ones to the bank, I need hunnids | 
| No fives and tens, I don’t want it | 
| I ain’t trying to be a bastard | 
| But coming with straight Benjis made the counting process faster | 
| I’m a trapper, weed dealer | 
| My everyday watch is a Sea Dweller | 
| I see cheddar | 
| Going for the gusto with no regrets on what I coulda been | 
| I put it in, ringleader of the shadow government | 
| My last rap check I bought pounds of good | 
| This next one’s to get my moms out the hood | 
| She working to pay the bills and I’m working to have a chill | 
| Til then I’m playing the field tryna get this chicken for real | 
| Shit is wicked on these mean streets | 
| None of my friends speak, we all tryna win | 
| But then again | 
| Ambition turn to anger | 
| And there you have it, best friends turn to strangers, uh | 
| Right | 
| I let it go and let my chips stack | 
| My nigga got caught for some work but we ate better of the git back | 
| It might as well have been gift wrapped | 
| The number one rule don’t leave no work where your kids at | 
| Cause it’s the hustle gang these streets ain’t right | 
| Stash in another crib and keep my heat up high | 
| Road to the riches to the top of the mountain | 
| Say «goodbye» to being poor, say «hello» to accountants | 
| Cop my bitch a big Birkin and some kush and Loboutins | 
| Shout out to that scale that helped me weigh out them ounces | 
| Watch out for the leeches and? waveriders and hoes | 
| That come over sober with alterior motives | 
| Weed out the fake friends | 
| Shit be all good when they in | 
| That’s your man tell him no for something see then | 
| Shouts to the cats that expect nothing from me | 
| Different number same jersey | 
| We used to fight for building blocks | 
| Now we fight for blocks with buildings that make a killing | 
| So we could cop coupes remove roof poof ceiling | 
| Fresh off the stoop ten inch boots, God willing | 
| A nigga see tomorrow, dodging tips that’s hollow | 
| Yea I drink a lot but never pride swallowed | 
| Gripping on my bottle from the home of Apollo | 
| You could wear the wire while I move like Marlo, harpo | 
| Was what a nigga pushing for as I cook the raw | 
| Shit you could tell nigga just look at me then look at y’all | 
| Key and ivory weigh ins I’m low down, dirty? | 
| Pay attention and you’ll get just what I’m saying | 
| Coming of age as I’m stuck in my ways | 
| Where I’m from to get your name rung you gotta keep your hand gun | 
| Can I live nigga? Is you friend or foe | 
| I live by these three words--money cash hoes, it’s Lo |