Hahaha
Uh-oh
Brisco
The new Cash Money
Believe that!
Hahaha
Ugh (Yeah, yeah)

I’m from the cocaine era, packs in my stroller
Two beepers and a flip, Star-Tech Motorola (What up)
Bally silks (Ugh), Kangol tilts (Kill it)
Stand straight when the boss talking, hush your lips
Mob-affiliated contract hits
I let the street declare war when you want that beef (Want that beef, yeah)
Talk cheap, get money, I was taught to ride
Loyalty came first, and we don’t switch no sides
I’m a savage on the block, nickel rocks and heroin hopes (Yeah)
I walked the ghetto like them, but I was taking my notes (I was taking my notes, Wayne)
Certified goon (Yeah), the lock’s on standby (What up)
I just need a couple real niggas I can stand by (Yeah, C-M-B)
A bad bitch with hips (Ugh)
And two niggas on the interstate, taking them trips (Let’s get it, 12)
I’m into carats like Bugs Bunny (Yeah)
Young Brisco (Ugh), the New Cash Money (Haha)

Wayne!
Yeah
Hello, world
Hahaha
That was the homie, Brisco
I am Weezy F.B
And we are them Cash Money Boys
You dig? Hahaha, yeah

One! Reporting live from the booth (Yeah!)
I’m killing these bitches, Young Wayne Carruth (Kill ’em, Wayne)
Untamed and loose; blunts, drank and juice
I was once a spark; into a flame, it grew
I don’t complain to you—don’t complain to me
Everybody got beef, and I just came to eat
I’m in the game for keeps; if you in my lane, I beep (Ugh)
I been running this shit, and I never sprained my knee
And guess who came home? Ronnie the O.G. (Yeah)
He still on papers, nigga, we’re never free
And for my homie Streets, I’ma twist one up
He can’t even hit the kush; he gotta piss in a cup (Ugh)
What is this on my wrist? Shit is sicker than “ugh”
Yo, Brisco, there ain’t a sky bigger than us (Yeah)
What’s good? I’m in Diamonds—is you tipping or what? (Yeah)
I took your bitch and she ain’t coming back to work for a month

Weezy Baby (Ugh)
Cool, that’s cool, let ’em live, Weez
You already know what it is
Ahem
Yeah, don’t be scared now
Tell ’em, tell ’em
We just got started
But I done already told ’em
Yeah, ugh, Mack
But they didn’t wanna hear me
Yeah, c’mon
Hahaha! Go!

I’m in the all-red Flying Spur (Haha), on Asantis (Yeah)
With a bad red bone that look something like Ashanti (Hahaha)
OK, light brown, Southern-tan Medina (Ugh, ugh)
With a light-brown, thick thing like Trina (Yeah, haha)
Um, you prolly seen us (Uh-huh, yeah)
Ripping the streets with no top between us
You’re so genius
That’s my word, you know I got you, twin (You know I got you)
You’re a real nigga, dog, thanks for letting me in (Ugh) (Believe that!)
Yeah, he in the game now, and I’m betting he win
And I’m the rap landlord, just collecting my rent (Ugh)
I put the house on Lil’ Bris’, we gon’ eat this year (We gon’ eat this year)
Silence for the real niggas who ain’t see this year (Hold up)
Open your eyes, open your eyes—Cash Money has a new face (Yeah, ugh)
And we gon’ tie the shit up like a shoelace (Ugh)
And that’s me, the young hood messiah
‘0-7, I’ma set the fucking hood on fire (Yes sir)

Whoa, yeah
Suh—Suh—Suh—C-M-B
Haha
Young Money
Listen, man
Weezy and Brisco
Hahaha
Get ready
As a matter of fact, you ain’t

C-M-B
P-O-E
E-Class, what it does?
Brisco—Big Chuck, what it does?
Triple C’s, Street Mob
G-12
Yeah
Slim and Baby, what it is?
We gon’ eat this year
Ugh
The whole faculty
The whole mob
Yeah
I know