[Verse 1]
You n***as need to mind ya mothafuckin' business
And I'm talking to whoever felt offended
I said it with a candy cane in my mouth (why's that?)
So these mothafuckas know I meant it
The car I'm driving is vintage and I'm sitting on inches
These Atlanta hoes think I'm the bomb, '96 Olympics
But they ain't give me no playback when I was stuck in those trenches
Now they on my Twitter page, all over my mentions
But I don't pay 'em no attention, probably cause I don't trust 'em
I fuck 'em good but I don't cuff 'em, I know they hoes but I don't judge 'em
These rap n***as is wack to me, I think I'm better than most of 'em
There's only two fly n***as in the game and baby girl I'm both of 'em

[Hook x2]
So you should know that (I'm gettin' money)
I'm always on my grind (I'm gettin' money)
24 hours (I'm gettin' money)
Cause ain't nothing else to do (I'm gettin' money)

[Verse 2]
So while you n***as chilling wit' ya feet up
Me and my n***as out in San Frans finna re-up
And I'm getting money out the country
I ain't talking credit cards when I say I need a Visa
Call me Mr. International, stayed inside some vaginal
My bitches call me Bob cause I do the shit a mack'll do
This gold'll cost a few stacks, you want me on the track wit' you
I came a long way from slanging sacks on the avenue
Prynce, I don't do what them other rappers do
I'm stuck up, I got a gettin-money type of attitude
Yea I rap but I'm a ex-pimp slash trapper too
I had the green, my partna had the caine like the Kappas do
[Hook x2]