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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rick Ross
Vocals
Meek Mill
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jacob Canady
Songwriter
Robert Rihmeek Williams
Songwriter
William Leonard Roberts II
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Amani "A $" Hernández
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Fresh Ayr
Mixing Engineer
David “TropDavinci” Anthony Bermudez
Recording Engineer
ATL Jacob
Producer
Eddie Hernandez
Mixing Engineer
Javier Merino Valverde
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
[Intro]
Tell them ****, "Get in line," they ain't got no money, none (Brrt, brrt)
Spent thirty-five million on my jet, ****, week later, spent another thirty-five million (Woo, whoa, double M)
On a palace on motherfuckin' Star Island (ATL Jacob, he a fuckin' millionaire)
Take notes, ****, huh
[Verse 1]
Life up easy, a lot of riders on it (Lot, a lot)
I play greasy, it ain't no plottin' on me (What? No plottin')
She too easy, I told the bro to lob her for me (Throw that out)
If I catch you cheatin', I'll buy you a watch, we probably gon' rob you for it, a lot of money (A lot)
You ain't never count no money till you get tired of money (Woo)
Totin', runnin' 'round, right hand in the trenches with all my diamonds on me (Brrt)
Homie a clown, get hit in his head, you set on fire on 'em
Switchy on the pound, rip through his Louis, felt like it's fire on him, it's hot
I'm with Ricky, me and my sticky, right in the rear view, **** tricky (Boss)
I got twenty hoes right now, but only gon' take two 'cause I'm picky
Pullin' a Rolls-Royce through my old hood, it ain't no way that you could miss me (No way)
She was on demon time, lil ho-ho, it ain't no way she could kiss me (Huh)
It ain't no way, it ain't no way (It ain't no way, it ain't no way)
I just sniped a famous bitch and cut her like she OJ
She was tryna play with me, I'ma text her on her birthday
For what?
For what?
Just to ask her if she okay
[Bridge]
Okay
Okay
Okay, okay
(Okay, okay, okay) Meek, I love it, ****
(I love it, I love it) I love it, yes
[Verse 2]
Jokić and Murray, you know we determined, sendin' my shooters like a movie, I'm closin' your curtains (Uh)
Kobe and Shaq, the bottles are black, the nine inches to you snitches and all of you rats (Shaq, black, rat)
Why you countin' my pockets? Bitches DM my bitches, IRS, she been talkin', real estate is extensive (Pockets, bitches, extensive)
My money retarded, since you **** is dummies, and my label the largest, I just came for the money (Ha, dummy, brrt)
I'm not dissin' you ****, I'm just tippin' the killers, we can share all the women, I'm not gettin' no feelings (Nah, biggest, woo, hahaha)
Africa to Nairobi, I got kids in the village, yes, they call me "Don Dada," been through pain, and they feel it (Nairobi, village, Don Dada, Uh)
Put the hoes on a bus, we could jump on a jet, 737, I'ma jump on the next (Bus, jets, hahaha)
Them fake-ass lab diamonds left a lump on your neck, I gave your bitch a double M, it ain't none but baguettes (Lab, lab, baguettes)
[Outro]
Yes, baguettes
It's too good to be true
They can't believe we pulled it off, ****, huh
Written by: Jacob Canady, Robert Rihmeek Williams, William L. Roberts II