Lyrics:

Up in the bleachers, in the penthouse, frontin'
Stove burnin' a half a bird
Uleica out the legs, it's burnin'
We eatin' escovitch, green pea soup
Korean coupe in the front
With twelve rich whores ready to stunt
Roll the blunts, ladies
U, strain the pussy
Reign gleamy, my man
Onto 700 grand, out, breathe easy
Then the phone rang, bling, bling, bling
Hey yo king, two more ice packs comin'
Forty bundles of onion
Roll the reefer to the maximum
Sax playin', lay on the drums
The Jeffersons on, I’m ready to cum
She lookin' at me with a relevant stare
Know my pocket’s the only hair
To come up out the hood, stay here
Piss the merlot out, twirl my little thing downstairs
'Cuz anything other than there, we all willionaires ('will'ion - 'heirs'; a.k.a., Paris Hilton and trust-fund children)
Can't forget that, the ziplocks is get-back
None of that overnight shit, we sell in seconds pa, hit back
Sean, hey yo, it's stupid hot
Take the shotty witchu', you and Barkim make it pop
Them niggas from the golden era
Lemonade leathers who don’t give a fuck if they die, they more high
They’re soliders in the streets, they rebels
Bubble for motherfuckin' money with bitches rockin' stilettos
So when the drought hit, they on their shit
The sheeps come out lovin' the See-Cypher-Powers (C-O-Ps, a.k.a., cops), they cowards
Stay off the fuckin' flowers

Rockin' a skull full of waves
Four frames with his chain
Jamaican accent, fresh out Toronto, we black skin
Young Black Panther M.O., love wheelin' rentals
He on the crack spot, we know it as the trap shop
Adidas down sterling brown
Uncles is traffickers
Lifestyle growing spectacular
Green grass smokers with green hash
Them niggas don't need cash, they only play fresh and rock mean glass
The dream stash only when the good boy last
These are all ruthless niggas who don’t seem glad
Left the Aspen in back of the gas station
Never no shorties in it
It's only Glocks with mags
Here the Feds come, niggas is bagged
No, give 'em his bad, diesel ninjas in rags
Rockin' flags