[Verse 1: Billard] Boy, I'm so hot that a nigga gotta lay low Shawty giving head till her brain gone Since I got the fame, boy my life ain't been the same Now I'm Hollywood, niggas saying that I changed The only thing new, I got a few gold chains I been rocking gold hoops before Trinidad James Come fuck with the greatest Industry status, I know that you hate it I know that you hate it, I know you been waiting All eyes on me, all eyes on me Whore you know it's me, a young nigga from the C Whore from the burbs, but my niggas from the streets I've been thinking money, that's the only thing I see It's a club full of hoes and you niggas wanna beef Every nigga quick to say his boy got the piece And every nigga is quick to say I'm gully out the heat I ain't worried muthafucka I got my feet up gettin' ready for the summer I could bet a million that you're boy about to come up Don't be mad at the world cause your records ain't buzzin' Don't be mad at the system cause you niggas ain't stuntin' Don't be mad at your boy cause you ain't worth nothing Cause you ain't worth nothing
[Chorus]
[Verse 2: Machine Gun Kelly] This song got a muthafuckin' feeling like Pac though (Feelin' like Pac, thug life) picture me rollin' Duck the police in a pothole (skrrr, Five-O) Wh-whipping this shit stolen Passenger seat is El Gato (When that's pussy I beat it) Beat it till it's swollen Then I paint her face like Picasso (Nah bitch) Pronto, you ain't e'n known it, like Rocko Welcome to the Midwest Fill the fridge up with them government checks Dark liquor is a must when you one of us And we got the Bub for the bus, go and ingest Funny that my father wanted me to be a scholar Instead I grew up like him and became an alcoholic A couple of dollars, get some gin and tonic, and a couple condoms Give a bitch head trauma, not she hooked on phonics Ye ain't never seen a muthafucka (2x) Cleveland boy get up on the big screen With the same team that he used to ride the bus with Now they got a tour bus, shit Ye ain't never seen a muthafucka (2x) Go from flippin' burgers at the Fuddruckers Hit up private jets with the Jimmy Iovines Then flying Coach, back to the drug runners 100
[Chorus: Billard]
[Verse 3: Billard] I might sell my soul for a new Bugatti Shit, I'm just young and reckless I see why half of you rappers stressin' I'm here now nigga, you can get to steppin' All these hoes nowadays seem to act so desperate I give her what she want, then I'm on to the next chick She don't say nothing cause she know I'm the next "it" Your times up girl, that's it, girl hit the exit You should be faithful that you in my presence "Oh, you needing Jesus" I don't need your blessings Like learn your lessons, don't with king I mean like, we know who jealous, so fuck with me This that give-and-go, that pick-and-roll This that cock back and let it go This that bang, bang, that bang fo'sho' My niggas bang fo'sho', this ain't for show