[Verse 1: Drake]
Kush rolled, glass full: I prefer the better things
n*ggas with no money act like money isn't everything
I'm having a good time, they just trying to ruin it
Shout out to the fact that im the youngest n*gga doing it
Cap on, brim bent, Denzel, every time
She ain't trying to pop that sh*t for pimp; okay, well nevermind
I tried to told you, Drizzy still ain't nothing nice
Bracelet saying "you should quit", cars saying "f*ck your life"
Okay now we outta here, toodles to you b*tches
And if you dolled up, I got the voodoo for you b*tches
I'm busy getting rich, I don't want trouble
I made enough for two n*ggas, boy: stunt double
Fame is like a drug that I've taken too much
I never ever trip, just peace, happiness and love
I got money in these jeans, so they fit me kinda snug
Plus the game is in my pocket, n*gga this is what I does
[Hook: Drake]
I'm about whatever man, f*ck what they be talking about
They opinon doesn't count, we the only thing that matters
So we do it how we do it
All up in your face man, I hate to put you through it
I be up all night, whole crew's in here
Cause I don't really know who I'mma lose this year
Man I love my team, man I love my team
I would die for these n*ggas
[Verse 2: Einstein]
I be up all night, I don't even need to see the time
Feeling like I'm screwing myself, because I'm getting mine
Different time, different day, but it's still the same ol'
Rhymes getting paid, but the games old
I never chose to be a rhymer
I was brought into the game on a higher honor than your father
And the way that I bomb ya like I'm Osama Bin Laden
Makes me more than a common rhymer
Spitting equal to ripping a lyrical Dalai Llama
Mama, I just wanna make you proud
And I don't wanna let you done, but to do that
I gotta please the crowd, I spit so sick I-
I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth
Wow, who really seen that coming?
You couldn't predict my flow if you were Houdini's cousin
And something tells me that money keeps me out of trouble
So I fill up banks, but I ain't Will Smith's uncle
[Hook: Drake]
[Verse 3: Nicki Minaj]
Drizzy say get her, I'mma get her
I got the kind of money that make a broke b*tch bitter
I got that kinda.. wait-wait fixate
Which b*tch you know made a million off a mixtape?
That was just a keepsake, bought the president
The Louis presidential briefcase, never been a cheapskate
We got the Hawks, I ain't talking about the peach state
Man, for Pete's sake, scratch that: sweepstakes
f*ck I look like, ho?
I look like "yes" and you like "no"
I'm a bad b*tch I ain't never been a mixed breed
I'm on a diet but I'm doing donuts in a 6-speed
M6 in front of M2
I see a lot of rap b*tches on the menu
But I collect 100 thou at the venue
And pop bottles with the team Young Money 'til the death of me
[Hook]
[Nicki Minaj]
I mean, we don't even rock them shoes
If it ain't got a comma on the price tag
I mean but then again who looks at the price tag?