Intro
808 Mafia 
YK

Chorus 1: Project Pat
I got cheese, dope, and a fuckin' bad bitch (Woo) 
I got pills, weed, and a Draco with some clips (Woo) 
I'ma empty every round, then I'm reloadin' the clip 
Caught your gal out here thottin', fuck on that lil' bitch

Verse 1: Project Pat
Memphis niggas, country niggas, and we want all the smoke (Uh-huh) 
Fuck with Hector and Gomez, man, we sell all the dope (Uh-huh) 
Call my lawyer, Eric Morgan, if I do get caught (Eugh) 
The best lawyer in the world, he gon' get the charges dropped 
I got dogs, they not strays 
Gold teeth, I got braids 
Money trains niggas on they hustle, we try'na get paid (Ching king) 
Pistol grip, .40 on the hip 
Shootin' out the muzzle (Bang) 
Throw your gang sign in the air if you know 'bout the struggle 
Money blue, like puzzle 
Pull that scrap, like, uh-oh 
I'ma shoot, like fasho 
Try me, uh, no-no 
All my niggas on go-go 
Fuck 12, fuck popo 
One in the dome, from Draco 
Head in pieces, like puzzle (Eugh, ugh)

Chorus 2: Project Pat
I got cheese, hoes, and a bunch of fuckin' dope
I got P's, coke, and some killers at the door
Hydro weed smoke, and a quarter-ounce of blow
What you need, bro, is to fuck with your boy

Verse 2: Young Dolph
Ayy
Slidin' down 240, then got off on Earl Ways (Trap)
Headin' to the hood where whole things for sale, man (Trap)
You wanna P or a muthafuckin' bill, man (Trap)
When you pass the corner store, just make a left, man (Trap)
I'm on Boar Street (Trap)
80 P's a week (Trap)
Niggas runnin' in and out, that's how you know it's me (Trap)
Burglar bars on every window on the house (Like who that right there)
Ain't nothing in here but a scale and a couch (Yeah, yeah)
Narcotics ridin' down the street, oh shit (God damn)
I grabbed the money, went and threw it over the fence (Go next door)
Too much money, this shit got me paranoid (Yeah, yeah)
These niggas dummies, man, don't make me send them boys

Verse 3: Key Glock
Yeah
South Memphis youngin', you know how I'm comin'
I been gettin' money, turn nothin' into somethin' (Yeah)
Phone line jumpin' (Brrt), they booking' me constantly (Okay)
'Cause this young nigga hotter than a fuckin' oven (Hot, hot, hot)
Chillin' with your auntie (Ayy), smokin' on some onion (Yah)
Her ass fat like an onion (Yah), head bomb atomic (Whoa)
Ridin' 'round town in a brand new foreign (Shit)
Then I got bored, put some Forgiattos on it (Yeah)
I be Gucci'd down, but I'm still wearing' Jordans (Yeah)
I be iced out, bitch, my neck cost a fortune (Uh)
I been ballin' out, I just came back from tourin' (Yeah)
And linked up with Pat, 'cause he said he got some more

Chorus 2: Project Pat
I got cheese, hoes, and a bunch of fuckin' dope
I got P's, coke, and some killers at the door
Hydro weed smoke, and a quarter-ounce of blow
What you need, bro, is to fuck with your boy