(Dramatic, nigga!)
Well, alright, here I go

I’m a rapper-turned-singer, and you can tell that he smoke
But I don’t need my vocal cords, all I hit is C-notes
N.E.R.D. flow, I spaz if I’m pre-voked
I’m about to change the fucking game, pass the remote
Money is everything, and it’s every other thing
I’m part of the choir, that’s the motto that my brother sing
Cash is the right now, women are post game
MoneyOverBitches dot com, check the domain
It’s coming too soon, album on the way
People ask me if I pray, I say, “Yeah, once in a blue moon.”
Oops, I mean a red moon, I did it again, Tune
Let me leave a space in for your Blood affiliation, I state
Heavy metaphors, flow so overweight
I could rap around these other young’uns like a cobra snake
Frostbite Drizzy, nigga, nobody as cold as Drake
Keep your ass in-line, don’t be tryna roller-skate
Fuck all the discrete shit, I get on some deep shit
I am 21, tell me, who do I compete with?
I’m on my elite shit, you could tell I’m real
‘Cause I’m getting hood love and I ain’t even talking street shit
Young Angel, Young Lion, I’m done trying
I’m just doing, who’s drinking? ‘Cause I’m buying
It’s on me, everything is on me
And my girl is still down like she’s fucking Jon B
And when I go dumb, I tend to do dumb shit
I just listened back and now I’m sounding like a trumpet
This for all the strippers ’cause I know that they’re gon’ bump it
Tell ’em, “Back it up and dump it, back it, back it up and dump it.”
Ain’t no pistols here, your money will disappear
My accountant will feed his family off my fiscal year
Tax brackets and back-and-forth faxes
My money coming full circle, get up on my axis
Nebby, I’ma kill ’em, only ’cause I promised
They think I’m being cocky, but I’m only being honest
I’m swallowing the Goose, got a model getting loose
And I never party ‘less I got some bottles in the booth
I just walk up on the scene, I’m about to take this
I’m just having patience, ’cause I want it to make sense
White cup, orange pop, Tennessee State shit
Drop a four in it and appreciate the greatness, Drizzy

(Gangster!) I just want y’all to remember
That this is the first mixtape you bumped
While you had a black president

Yeah, p-p-pass the dro
I am such a beast and you can ask them hoes
And they might even say you should leave me alone
And homie’s scared, ’cause his bitch like me
Stunting is a habit, get it from my daddy
Just like Shaggy, I tote that bombastic
I’m a rude bastard, I don’t give a fuck ’bout y’all
I ain’t talking marbles, you can pluck my balls
And yes, I’m falling, but up, I fall
And if your bitch in heat, she could fuck my dog
I went from penny-pinching to private planes
Never sat on any benches, I got in games
Starter, Carter, ball harder
Ten girls, penthouse suite, y’all order
Whatever y’all please: wine, crackers, and cheese
They take off their clothes and put on my tees
The supplement I’ve taken got me feeling mighty
My gun and money don’t split, call that shit Siamese
Yes, my watch make the fricking time freeze
Your girl bless me, she suck my dick and I sneeze
Cheap-ass apartment, just the kitchen I need
And 18 Gs is why the chicken crossed the street
What you know ’bout it? My niggas so about it
If you kill everybody, they can’t go to court about it
Weezy, I ignore the liars, baby, I ignite the fire
I am like a Michael Myers, leave your body in the dryer
Got the shorty on the side of me, my bad boys follow me
I’m a bad boy, obviously, pop one at your Ivy League
I don’t have a rivalry, if so, you’ll have a casualty
Oops, I meant “a casualty” oops, I meant “catastrophe”
Oops, I meant, actually, you niggas is just ass to me
And big wet pussy is more like what I’m rather-ing
Welcome to the gathering, welcome to the burying
Or I hang you on the wall like a art gallery
You got short salary, and I got long money
I got Cash Money, I got Young Money, bitch (Gangster!)

See, I told y’all it’d be well worth the wait, right?
Dedication 3!
Chris, fuck with me!
C’mon, it’s Mr. Thanksgiving you’re talking about
Thing’s for sure