What of the dollar you murdered for, Is that the one fighting for your soul, Or your brother's the one that you're running from? But if you got money, fuck it, ‘cause I want some. [Big Sean:] B-I-G, Who fucking with me? Oh God! [Hook: Big Sean] Ain't nobody fucking with my Clique, clique, clique, clique, clique. Ain't nobody fresher than my mothafucking Clique, clique, clique, clique, clique. As I look around, they don't do it like my Clique, clique, clique, clique, clique. And all these bad bitches, man, they want the They want the, they want the... [Verse 1: Big Sean] I tell a bad bitch do whatever I say, My block behind me like I'm coming out the driveway. It's grind day, from Friday, to next Friday, I been up straight for nine days, I need a spa day. Yup, she trying get me that poo-tang, I might let my crew bang, my crew deeper than Wu Tang. I'm rolling with... fuck I'm saying? Girl, you know my crew name. You know 2 Chainz? Scrrr! I'm pulling up in that Bruce Wayne, But I'm the fucking villain, man, they kneeling when I'm walking in the building. Freaky women, I be feeling from the bank accounts I'm filling, What a feeling! Ah, man, they gotta be Young player from the D that's killing everything that he see for the dough. [Hook] [Verse 2: Jay-Z] Yeah, I'm talking Ye, yeah, I'm talking Rih, Yeah, I'm talking B, nigga, I'm talking me, Yeah, I'm talking bossy, I ain't talking Kelis. Your money too short, you can't be talking to me. Yeah, I'm talking LeBron, we ball in our family tree, G.O.O.D. Music drug-dealing cousin, ain't nothing fucking with we. Me turn that 62 to 125, 125 to a 250, 250 to a half a million, ain't nothing nobody can do with me. Now who with me? ¡Vámonos! Call me Hov or Jefe. Translation: I'm the shit, least that what my neck say, Least that what my check say. Lost my homie for a decade, Nigga down for like 12 years, ain't hug his son since the second grade. He never told. Who we gonna tell? We top of the totem pole, It's the Dream Team meets the Supreme Team. And all our eyes green it only means one thing – You ain't fucking with the clique. [Hook] [Verse 3: Kanye West] Break records at Louis, ate breakfast at Gucci, My girl a superstar all from a home movie, Bow on our arrival – the un-American idols. What niggas did in Paris? Got ‘em hanging off the Eiffel. Yeah, I'm talking business, we talking CIA, I'm talking George Tenet, I seen him the other day, He asked me about my Maybach, think he had the same Except mine tinted and his might have been rented. You know, white people get money, don't spend it, Or, maybe, they get money, buy a business, I rather buy 80 gold chains and go ign'ant, I know Spike Lee gone kill me but let me finish. Blame it on the pigment, we living no limits, Them gold Master P ceilings was just a figment Of our imagination, MTV Cribs. Now I'm looking at a crib right next to where TC lives, That's Tom Cruise, whatever she accuse. He wasn't really drunk he just h'd a frew breahws. Pass the refreshments, a cool, cool beverage, Everything I do need a news crew's presence. Speedboat swerve, homie, watch out for the waves, I'm way too black to burn from sun rays, So I just meditate at the home in Pompeii About how I could build a new Rome in one day. Everytime I'm in Vegas they screaming like he's Elvis, But I just wanna design hotels and nail it. Shit is real, got me feeling Israelian Like Bar Refaeli, Gisele, nah, that's Brazilian. Went through deep depression when my momma passed, Suicide, what kinda talk is that? But I been talking to God for so long, And if you look at my life, I guess he's talking back Fucking with my clique. [Hook]