Ft. Problem & Skeme

(Verse: Bad Lucc)
I need mine, the green packs are betta, BS yeah that
BL, Mr. Lucc, 354, DL
Mhmm! I'm a G, see em like don't push 'em
I need that, 8-8 with the kush in, I need that stare
I need that McLaren for what you're wearin', piggy
(What? I need the Rollses with the deauces homie)
I see ya my nigga, I need that cannon for the boosters
Who tryin' to do us, don't do it
I need me a reason to turn a nigga into a circle
My blood hands'll hurt ya!
Niggas that wanna be that I murk ya, it's shmurda
Turn fist fights to funerals, services'll merge ya
Pig! (Now go and handle it!) Fuck it i'm on my candle shit!
Light up the room, I need em keys and the hammers bitch
Need me a pack and the rizzles roll up a candle stick
I get high, start puttin' my hands on shit
Please, I need G's! Rule nigga fuckin' fo' cheese, I need e's
High outta my mind pisses the palm trees
Word to my nigga Skeme, I need mine, the C.R.E.A.M

(Hook 1)
The hard top, bad bitches
Bags of money next to this shit, I need sixes
I need mines, got asap, capische?
Long as money's spinnin' weed, yeah man

(Verse 2: Problem)
Yeah, respect, nigga, off top!
When I pull up in that new-new, comfy with the soft top
My bitch got the 30 inch Indian with the door knocks in the ear
And the rear's much bigger than what yo hoe got, bro
Gotta know I ain't showin' you niggas mercy
Foot up on the pedal, still watching out for 'em thirsties
No gimmicks, no limits, Master P but I ain't Percy
I ain't fearin' no man, cuz only Jesus can murk me
So I'm out here, movin', fuck sleepin', keep the coverts, bitch
Ten toes dancin', you can miss me with that sucka shit
Rollie told me, "Prob', you gotta stay up on yo hustle tip"
"Fuck friends, fuck chillin', and last off, fuck a bitch!"
Man dough, got too much, I got the hand oh
Niggas switch on me, the money keep blending ann voke
Homie down, it's only the world go round
I ain't askin', I'm takin', I'll kill with the kindy sound, waaa

(Hook 2)
Big houses, the bock with 'em couches
That new Chris Lu shit, Louie Vuitton vouchers
Emilio Pucci, Gucci, my niggas outchaied
G5 fo' eva, I'm bout that, uh!

(Verse 3: Scheme)
It go one two three four five, I goes live
I heard the game a bitch, guess who's tryna go inside?
Unless you talkin' paper, your convos get no reply
No time to socialize with none o' u local guys
It's real in the field, you wouldn't know if the pound right
Won't talk to broke niggas, now I'm high side?!
But me? You know I could give a fuck
Just keep my pockets fillin', drop that bit more in my cup
Got these bitches turnt up and a couple deals I turned down
My eyes on 'em dollas and I ain't neva turn around
Angle war rapper, habitualised stepper
You pussy rappers act like benjies, crown stressers
Type o' niggas out with a bullet when it was play time
No iPhone, but still these hoes gimme face time
Hustle hard, nigga, what the fuck is break time?
Either give it up or I'mma take mine
Hell, nigga!

(Hook 3)
Time Ford lenses, max in the Benzes
Kush by the barrel, look down, my crew get it
All about the dolla, these bitches gon' come wid it
'Long as you can get it, I'm wid it, yeah!