| You listening to a Chops production | 
| And MB’s the click, ODB, Dirt McGirt, tell 'em | 
| Yeah, roof is on fire, bitch, put it out | 
| Out of control, flames spinnin' out | 
| When you get real deep, dig it out | 
| When you rollin' up the L, pig it out | 
| Pop the cork, respect, pour it out | 
| White Horse in the house, roll it out | 
| If it’s goods on the wood, throw 'em out | 
| I’ll be there, pop, you can dig it out | 
| Dirt Dog, want the red rug, roll it out | 
| You saw the grip, and I ain’t ashamed to pull it out | 
| My fault, cuz you said you gonna bring it out | 
| And you know it ain’t comin', til I’m singin' out | 
| Oh, don’t stop ma, got my legs shakin' here, don’t stop ma | 
| You’se a real freak girl, gotta give you props | 
| Cuz I feel the bam bam when my bed rock | 
| Rollin' on your stair, bitch, pick her out | 
| Out of control, and can’t slut her out | 
| Big girls, you can get it, no doubt | 
| You jumpin' off, with the pretty little mouth | 
| Don’t expect to trip down south | 
| Uh-uh, and relay in my baby mama house | 
| Let’s fuck, girl, time’s running out | 
| Mama be home at five, on the dot | 
| Fuckin' up my party, bitch, throw 'em out | 
| Out of control, my name, wide 'em out | 
| Fill the arenas, the Roc, sell 'em out | 
| Get mad shit on the curb, and pout | 
| When I left the Billboards, what drought | 
| Serious thought, for those who wanna doubt | 
| Move with felony niggas, that just came out | 
| And thunders that be spittin' in heavy, like four pounds |