[Rick Ross:]
Heads open arms, but nigga where the love at?
Meech a million cash, it take you where the plug at
Bang, bang, bang, I want the combat
Droppin’ bombs, got it looking like the sunset
Faced his life sentence, nigga never told me
I fucked the system once and then my dawg rolled on me
It got a hundred shots, you know I put the pole on it
A hour later nigga, bodies got swole on me
Phone ringing, duckin’ calls, niggas chattin’ on me
‘Nother dead nigga name getting tatted on me
Homicide detectives coming, and they pattin’ on me
But them pussy ass crackers never mattered to me
They know I’m in the city when the family’s out
The kilos in the duffle bags, I’m talkin’ that amount
Bitches see me, and they think it’s Santa hour
I heard you was a rat, now tell me just what that about
Panamera for some pussy, that’s an even swap
Left the keys in the ignition, and it even locked
Kilos on Biscyane that’s up to Tallahassee
Tryna reload all the things and drop ’em in Calabasas
Where I’m from, you say my name, you had to shoot a fade
Helicopters over here ’cause I could feel the blades
You niggas at Coachella get the center stage
I get it with my fellas, get ’em ten a plate
Call him Rosé, really when he just a renegade
Pretty boys winning, but they couldn’t fade us
Talking down on us in our Chuck Taylor’s
Now we pushing Bentley cream cheese bagels
Bribing prosecutors down to the base
You know I get the sneakers ‘fore they hit the shelf
Every album been a classic, I’m a feature film
Ballin’ for my son, I pray he reach the rim
Nipsey Hussle gone, I gotta speak for him
All my shirts be custom, that’s a sack a piece
I got fifty restaurants, so fuck how rappers eat
Diamonds in my shades, you should see my life
Not too many niggas made, such a sacrifice
Got the shooters with me when I be in foreign hoods
Got a new two seater just for Jordyn Woods
Lookin’ at my stash, a nigga know I’m good
Ferrari on Ferrari, one for all of us
Standing on the corner ’cause my lights was off
Look at what I’m seeing, time to write some bars
Sure he in a mansion and expensive cars
See me when you see me, when you see the God

[ScHoolboy Q:]
Two-door coupe, hoppin’ out like Jack-in-the-Box, nigga
I’m gon’ shoot if this 30’s all that I got, nigga
Time’s up
Got my coins up, my bars up, soon we find ’em
We gon’ slide ’em, we lined ’em, straight reclined ’em
Pistol grip, I got all kinds of, I’m not your driver
Shot gon’ hit him, he won’t answer, I’m blowin’ ganja
So much work, they call me old school, I remind ya
That bitch you think you got is not you, where you find her?
She a kickstand, a big fan, I get behind her
Then I slid it in, I win, I win, ayy

[DJ Clue:]
I mean that’s bitch shit
Faking like you got it in your pockets, yeah that’s bitch shit
Talking to them hoes, you steady gossip, yeah that’s bitch shit
Telling on your mans so you can scram, yeah that’s bitch shit
Pull it out and acting like it jammed, yeah that’s bitch shit
Hating on another nigga come up, yeah that’s bitch shit
Saying it because you know it’s summer, yeah that’s bitch shit
You a bitch boy, on my momma
Uh, ok let’s get it, bitch let’s get it

[ScHoolboy Q:]
Okay, let’s get it, bitch, let’s get it, woo
Got a plan, we gon’ kill his man
The gun won’t jam, it’s on on sight
I might get life, that’s on my life
The.44 fire, the goal green light
To build that price, it filled up nice
The God won’t die
Okay, let’s get it, bitch, let’s get it, woo
See no flaws, in my purest form, bitch, I’m greedy, uh
Goyard tags, filled with hella cash, this my gimme bag
Zeroes add, we don’t do no class, nigga, nine subtract, ayy

Two-door coupe, hoppin’ out like Jack-in-the-Box, nigga
I’m gon’ shoot if this 30’s all that I got, nigga
Y’all on mute, ain’t no back-talk on my block, nigga
Numb numb juice to the head, fuck up the opps, nigga
Two-door coupe, hoppin’ out like Jack-in-the-Box, nigga
I’m gon’ shoot if this 30’s all that I got, nigga
Y’all on mute, ain’t no back-talk on my block, nigga
Numb numb juice to the head, fuck up the opps, nigga