[Intro]
We’ll never stop, [bad word] Never…
I’m hittin’ that hundred-mil mark on these niggas
in the next two years, [bad word] Yeah, [bad word] 

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I say, I’m ridin’ on Forges – call them my skaters
You know them bodies is sticky, you can’t get caught up in capers
Niggas are tricky, you can’t be askin’ for favors
2-2-3 go to lickin’, and make your [bad word] go into labor
Niggas hate when you winnin’, you wanna kill ‘em, I feel ya
Took the top off the car, [bad word]  I know my face look familiar [bad word]  with my lil’ gangters, we makin’ a killin’
When you count your first million you never forget the feelin’
That when my eyes go to twitchin’, palms start to itchin’
Niggas be snitchin’, that’s when my dogs start trippin’
Black belly, I bought a [bad word]  you know my pockets fat
More money to gain, Double-M on my chain
I just redid the deal, another 20 and change
I step where I please, broke [bad word] freeze
Cartier bracelet, them Swisher Sweets in my jeans

[Hook: Chief Keef]
These [bad word] love Sosa
O End or no end [bad word]  with them O Boys
You gon’ get [bad word] over
‘Rari’s & Rovers
These hoes love Chief Sosa
Hit him with that cobra
Now that boy slumped over
They do it all for Sosa
You boys ain’t makin’ no noise
Y’all know I’m a grown boy
Your clique full of broke boys
God y’all some broke boys
God y’all some broke boys
We GBE dope boys
We got lots of dough, boy

[Verse 2: Stalley]
Still in all gold just like Mr. T
Rollin’ up that Swisher Sweet,
box Chevy with Diamond seats
Ridin’ to this Diamond D,
diamonds in my pinky ring
Middle finger to you hatin’ niggas
that hate to see a [bad word] do his thing
But I’m doin’ me, a million last year,
even after doin’ that Music Manage tour for free
Now all I hear is “this year is me”
And I told Ross if it ain’t,
I’mma clique on [bad word] down on you rappers
and your weak rhymes
I lost [bad word] because I kept grindin’
Man, speak honest – these weak niggas [bad word] I’mma be honest, I’m being modest,
freshest [bad word] [bad word] check the closets
World tour and them checks deposit,
new whips with no mileage
New cribs by Cold Harbor
Bury money in my back yard
while you niggas goin’ back and forth