Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lil Wayne
Vocals
Juelz Santana
Vocals
Fabolous
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alan Maman
Songwriter
Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.
Songwriter
John David Jackson
Songwriter
LaRon James
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Darius "Deezle" Harrison
Recording Engineer
Miguel Bermudez
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Edward Lido
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Fabian Marasciullo
Mixing Engineer
Joshua Berkman
Editing Engineer
Alchemist
Producer
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Yes
What it look like Alc'?
Tryna show these ****, man
It's that Street Fam, man, we rep that (Loso)
Street fi-di-di-di-damn
I'm with a hundred and one ****, we Dalmatian doggy deep (Yes)
And I fly with the tongue, so if you feeling froggy, leap (C'mon)
Kermit, you better think before you ribbit
Don't get murdered over your song, before you ad-lib it
I pop up like Xzibit but given I'm at your crib it's (Yeah, yeah)
Not to put no fucking fish tanks in your Civic (Nah)
Fuck gettin' your ride pimped, you'll get hog-tied, wimp
Have you in the trunk, curled up like fried shrimp
It's been a Goodyear, maybe I should ride blimp (Whatchu think?)
'Cause your boy just stay above the game
They tryna to tag 'em, spray a brother frame
But your shots can't reach me, I'm away above your aim
Go 'head, ****, say another name (Go ahead, go ahead)
Take this family for a joke, play them Wayan brother games
And I'm Git You Sucka, I be schemin' with this Keenan (That's right)
Aimin' with this Damon, I'm puttin' that Major Payne in
My Little Man is on ya', Marlon and Shawn ya' (Yeah)
Lay the beef on his noodle, make some Luger lasagna (Woo)
Forty Cal fettucine, trey pound pasta
You reach for this medallion, you must like Italian, ****
You only see me pushing if the driver's tired (Yes)
I work the S-six ever since the five retired (Yes)
The drop top, they say it's Ocean Drive inspired
So you can call a cab once your bitch fall for Fab
Uh, I get money like a motherfucker (Motherfucker)
Shades darker than a bitch but I can see (See)
I got everything, you got nothin'
But you ain't go nothin' on me (Me)
Oh, I'm gettin' money like a motherfucker
Yeah, money you will never see (Mr. HD, High definition)
Yeah, I got everything, you got nothin' (So I'm coming at you ****, you dig? Santana, aye)
But you ain't go nothin' on me
I'm on the grind till the police come (Yeah)
With that pistol on my side, boy, don't be dumb
Or I let that semi twirl you (Killa)
Now you could follow the drip
'Cause one shot outta the clip will Jheri curl ya' (Ooh)
Leave you sloppy like seconds, obey me like peasants
Or get opened up like presents, please
My young boys wildin' for respect, slit your throat
Have you smilin' with your neck, say, "Cheese"
My dough's a bit longer, my flow is just slaughter (Yep, yep)
My wrist look like frozen Poland spring water
So tell me, boys, tell me, boys, who you think you messing with? (Who?)
I get money out the ass, that's some expensive shit (Ew)
Haven't you all heard? (What?)
Y'all all herbs (Yep)
I stick toothpicks (Where?)
In y'all hors d'oeuvres (Listen)
I'm a shark, y'all just koi fish (What else?)
Octopus (What else?)
Oysters
Chump, I got my eye on your wifey now (Yeah)
I have her lick me up and then wipe me down (Up, down)
She told me you's a nag, you's a bug (Damn)
She told me I'm a blast, I'm a stud (Damn)
She told me you be beastin', you be checkin' for the burns
So I gave her knee pads for the rug
It's Skull Gang from the chain to the lifestyle
You surfboard dudes get wiped out, totally
Uh, I'm gettin' money like a motherfucker
Shades darker than a bitch but I can see
I got everything, you got nothin'
But you ain't go nothin' on me
Oh, I'm gettin' money like a muhfucker
Yeah, money you ain't never see
Yeah, I got everything, you got nothin' (Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh)
You ain't got nothin' on me (Check me out)
Get you three, four get you
Like the number, after one, I'ma get me two
It's Weezy F U, now you gotta have a baby
My money don't folds nor bends, Mercedes
Maybach, grey-black, and I got a four-four and a K, like eight stacks
Fuck your city and your town, I state facts
Take that, no, better yet, like Diddy, take that
Wait rats, I hate rats, I clean 'em out like Ajax
Got paper like a fax machine, asaneen
Damn, I mean asinine, I'm Dapper Don and after mine
There will be nine, damn, I mean there will be none
I will be one of the greatest things you've ever felt, you've ever seen
Or heard, Carter, hover, y'all scared
Not me, not I, call me young Popeye
Tell Bluto I'm a nuno, I bring RAL to your funeral
Damn, I mean funerale, funerol
You say tomato, I say tomahto
You say get 'em, I say got 'em, yeah, I got 'em
Man, you better keep payin' me 'cause you don't want my problems
I be wildin' like Capital One, what is in your wallet?
You fly, but what is it to pilot?
Weezy, I'm at the top, foot up in our bottom
Damn, I mean foot up in your ass
I kick that shit, now go and put it in the trash
Uh, I'm gettin' money like a motherfucker
Shades darker than a bitch but I can see
I got everything, you got nothin'
But you ain't go nothin' on me
Yeah, I'm gettin' money like a motherfucker
Yeah, money you will never see
Yeah, eh, eh
And you ain't go nothin' on me
Yeah, I'm gettin' money like a motherfucker
Shades darker than a bitch but I can see
Yeah, I got everything, you got nothin'
But you ain't go nothin' on me
Yeah, I'm gettin' money like a motherfucker
Yeah, big money, ****, big money, ****
Big money, ****, yeah
And you ain't got nothin' on me
Written by: Alan Maman, D. Carter, J. Jackson, John David Jackson, L. James