Chorus: 
(Until I feel you)
Yeah, ten groupies grown, my jury fuck and go
Even customs know we get it by the mother low
Bang bitches, I gotta count some dough
I need that check for choppers, screw that baby, suck it slow!
Slow, slow, slow
All she’s doing is blow, blow, blow
All she’s doing is smoke, smoke, smoke
Bitches, all we do is smoke, smoke, blow

She get it popping in the Blue Room
Easy on that blue bottle, what are you doing?
Uh, I talk shit, but seek money flowing
School her hard or not, I watch it throw it!
Straight round…  on the shakers
Laughing at these niggas while they’re throwing aces 
My nigga, I’ll be fresher up on a daily basis
That money got me making ..faces
Uh, Rose, Perrier by the cases
..on my shit… on my rollies
..on my shit, is big business, bitch!

Chorus: 
(Until I feel you)
Yeah, ten groupies grown, my jury fuck and go
Even customs know we get it by the mother low
Bang bitches, I gotta count some dough
I need that check for choppers, screw that baby, suck it slow!
Slow, slow, slow
All she’s doing is blow, blow, blow
All she’s doing is smoke, smoke, smoke
Bitches, all we do is smoke, smoke, blow

I’m the thrill above thrills, gone with the wind
I’m getting mills upon mills 
With my ride… she popping hills upon hills, 
I got hills upon hills.. county
I make her roll up like wheels
That ..that we smoke, man, stronger than some choke slams
Should the other take a tomb, stone me yes..
More OZs, cute Bs and LBs
Keep my eyes on the dream, and both prologue dreams
A hundred wishes and counting
Hundred bitches, that’s about it 
… a couple saying it’s crowded
Telling that hoe above her some words I never say
Tell a suck a dick, a dick is something worth of Juicy J

Chorus: 
(Until I feel you)
Yeah, ten groupies grown, my jury fuck and go
Even customs know we get it by the mother low
Bang bitches, I gotta count some dough
I need that check for choppers, screw that baby, suck it slow!
Slow, slow, slow
All she’s doing is blow, blow, blow
All she’s doing is smoke, smoke, smoke
Bitches, all we do is smoke, smoke, blow

Sin city in the backroom
I’ll be scoring when they count nine… you’re in!
My reputation is silent, heard I’ve been talking white
Hot tubs, cigars, and Rihanna looking like
They’re looking twice, Louis Vuitton…
Missing flights, oversleep, and nigga this is the life
Hustle, the hood is a lot faster
…party swearing, young masters
Blue face, nigga, I used to be broke, but now it’s a different day
Passport stamps, like a pretty G, huh!
Cush blunts with dizzy, that’s after dinner
Watch them bitches in my place, counting cash, but chase, nigga

Chorus: 
(Until I feel you)
Yeah, ten groupies grown, my jury fuck and go
Even customs know we get it by the mother low
Bang bitches, I gotta count some dough
I need that check for choppers, screw that baby, suck it slow!
Slow, slow, slow
All she’s doing is blow, blow, blow
All she’s doing is smoke, smoke, smoke
Bitches, all we do is smoke, smoke, blow