Say, Rih-Rih, let’s take this shit to the street one-time, you know? Throwin’ hundreds like loose change (still got my money) Got your broad in that Mulsanne (that Bentley, homie) Seats whiter than cocaine (that 40 on me) Got me and Chi-Chi, bring broads, mane She like my homie [Verse: Young Jeezy] I’m King Tut with my gold chain My partner with me, he the dope mane Straight gassed, nigga, that BP On that E40, that OG These bitch niggas be actin’ up These hoe niggas be actin’ foul They’ll grind with you, they’ll shine with you Be pointin’ fingers off at your trial My Rolls Royce with my driver in it Gettin’ fucked up ‘cause I ain’t got to drive Got Kendrick on them bottles Came and poured a swimming pool and we about to dive Got one room, got three bitches And you’re damn right that’s where they’re supposed to be Two glock .40s at all times I’ll shoot back if niggas shoot at me, you know it [Hook: Rihanna] Ohhh… All I see is signs All I see is dollar signs Ohhh… Money on my mind Money, money on my mind Throw it, throw it up Watch it fall out from the sky Throw it up, throw it up Watch it all fall out Pour it up, pour it up That’s how we ball out Throw it up, throw it up Watch it all fall out Pour it up, pour it up That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out [Verse: Rick Ross] My foreign cars – domestic beefs Peter Luger’s – the better seats Dollar after dollar – bottle after bottle Late for you haters even though my plane charter Suede Bally shoes, true rude boy Ferrari 400 horses, we do it for cool points Baby, do the math – I’m coppin’ Chanel bags Talkin’ Bell Harbour cigars for her mans Know we run the streets, eatin’ cold bully beef Now we at the Grammys, Tom Ford to my feet Boss on the avey, Rihanna screensaver Whenever you see the fat boy, you know it mean paper [Verse: Juicy J] Juicy J pourin’ up codeine – Benz all white, no chlorine Bad chick with me got ass and titties Freaky bitch gon’ fuck the whole team Ziplock bag full of OG – I go in like a door key Your girlfriend on both knees, she catch more balls than a goalie Purple all in my sprite, I’m high as Denzel on Flight Scared of money, don’t make no money You niggas shaky like dice I’m in the bed with your wife We poppin’ pills, we goin’ hard When she with you she a church girl When she with me she a pornstar Smokin’ on doobies like cigarettes Which one of these strippers give head the best? Pussy so good that I think I’m in love What am I saying? It must be the drugs Pour it up, pop that ass out, make it rain, hoe I’ll make it flood, shorty, you might need a raincoat [Verse: Rihanna] Strip clubs and dollar bills Still got more money Patron shots, can I get a refill? I still got more money Strippers goin’ up and down that pole And I still got my money Four o’clock and we ain’t going home Still got more money Money make the world go around I still got my money Bands make your girl go down Still got more money Lot more where that came from Still got more money The look in your eyes, I you know you want some Still got more money Pour it up, pour it up That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out That’s how we ball out [Verse: T.I.] I catch a case and I go to jail (still got more money) I came home and went back over there (still got more money) I’m multiplying everything I spend (still got more money) These trap niggas I represent (still got more money) It’s Hustle Gang and we poppin’ Got big bank rolls in our pockets Hoppin’ out a foregin vehicle Throwin’ forty Gs, ain’t no issue, bitch, bitch! I’m thorough as it get, official, bitch, bitch! Better watch your pussy poppin’ I might wanna come and get you, bitch Now everywhere you may see me Surrounded by bad bitches like Rih-Rih Got them booty shots, look like Nicki Face and toes pretty, I’m picky See these trap niggas, they on to me And these rap niggas up under me Ain’t nothin’ for me to get a hundred keys And then stimulate the economy, like… [Hook]