[Curren$y]
Daytime - lights on
Hell yeah I´m frontin´ but you love it
I don´t hide, bitch, I´m high when I´m in public
Even in my everyday ride I be stuntin´

This is nothin´, really, you should see me Sunday
I´m from New Orleans, love, so you know how I´m comin´
Hop out that Impala, left the motor runnin´
There´s my lil´ homies front that store, they ain´t gon´ touch it
"Spitta, where you goin´?"
I´m finna make the money
I come through in that bread truck, everybody hungry
I be tryna keep it low, but the streets be talkin´
I heard they think I´m sellin´ dope, on them walkie-talkies
They worse than them bitches, them bitches be stalkin´
Outside checkin´ for which car a nigga parked in
She said she from Belize, but she can speak Ferrari

I roll that tree and write a song about it in the morning

[Curren$y]
Pull up in that... and them bitches start choosin´
Choosin´, choosin´, choosin´, choosin´
Pull off in that... and them haters gon´ lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it
Pull up in that... and them bitches start choosin´
Choosin´, choosin´, choosin´, choosin´
Pull off in that... and them haters gon´ lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it

[Wiz Khalifa]
Pull up pushin´ buttons, blowin´ OG like it´s nothin´

Marijuana fussin´, smokin´ loud, it´s no discussion
Black and yellow, black and yellow, somethin´ out of nothin´
Choppers like the Russians, bust your head, that´s a concussion
Full-time grinder, all-the-time hustlin´
Bitch I´m from the ´Burg, so you know that I be thuggin´
Made it from the bottom so in God we put our trust in
Certified stoner, get up raw and put a nug in
´Raris, ´raris, ´raris, Lamborghini, hara-kiri
Suicidal doors, tell the owner I said "sorry"
Pull up in that Uno, pockets felt like sumo
Taylor Gang or die, Jet la, la, la, la...

[Curren$y]

Pull up in that... and them bitches start choosin´
Choosin´, choosin´, choosin´, choosin´
Pull off in that... and them haters gon´ lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it
Pull up in that... and them bitches start choosin´
Choosin´, choosin´, choosin´, choosin´
Pull off in that... and them haters gon´ lose it
Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it

[Rick Ross]
My homies, we sold pills, the motive is chrome wheels
Pullin´ up to Club Live, makin´ them hoes peel
My niggas was way trill, wardrobe was unreal
My Cuban was Spanish gold, so vintage was my Gazelles

I´m talkin´ The Facts of Life, can I just have a slice?
Backseats at the game, ´Bron havin´ a night
Let ´em go check the stats, ´cause all I want is the racks
Even movin´ the merch, I´m gettin´ sixty a hat
MCM on my luggae, Reebok makin´ me butter
Be hittin´ Cuban cigars, bumbaclot, he think he does this
Double M, we the hottest on the fuckin´ turf
I´m goin´ straight to Heaven, crib built like a church

[Curren$y]
Pull up in that... and them bitches start choosin´
Choosin´, choosin´, choosin´, choosin´
Pull off in that... and them haters gon´ lose it

Lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it