| Yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Yeah, yeah, yeah
|
| Slip into the room like karate shoes
|
| Impalas coming up the avenue by the two
|
| It was twenty cars in the crew
|
| You know we gettin' loot, it ain’t hard to tell
|
| We stacking that mail, the real will prevail
|
| Sure, them snakes will reveal their scales
|
| Try to blend in as your friends and pals
|
| I don’t need them, they won’t see me fail
|
| But all of my podnas, we on top still
|
| Closing them deals, chopping up mills
|
| Signed and sealed, check in the envelope
|
| Cop a car tonight, we gon' see how fast that bitch go, hustling for more
|
| Too busy playing the game for the glory
|
| To worry 'bout the scope
|
| But I know one thing absolutely sure
|
| We did the money dance in the Bentley store
|
| I got an eye for the hundreds and a fast car
|
| A passport, an ounce full of killer in the bag
|
| We mad smart, showed up hella high
|
| Dress sharp, front row, game four at the playoffs
|
| Money in the bank ain’t safe at all
|
| Money in the bank any day could be lost
|
| I still believe in the shoebox law
|
| I could put your life savings in the sock drawer
|
| I buy a house, I’ma gut out the wall
|
| I buy a house, I’ma dig up the yard
|
| Deep freezer in the garage, a hundred large
|
| Cold cash, yeah |