text: Cut the music up
  YMCMB, bitches call me Tunechi Li
  I be with niggas that shoot police
  I keep that iron, you can get creased
  And if she say she didnt fuck—bitch, youre lying through your teeth
  They say, It cost to be the boss
  The ones in jail wish they were free
  Niggas call me Hi-C because Im high, as you can see
  Niggas say they paid they dues; well, Im checking your receipt
  Might as well go stupid since this is a stupid beat
  Grab the owl out the tree, and ask that bitch, Who but me?
  Got your bitch bent over, nigga—hands to her feet
  Tell that pig and that cow Ill go ham if its beef
  Cause all my niggas well rounded
  Dont fuck with none of these square niggas
  Mask on, Ghostface Killah, draw down and erase niggas
  Im a Blood, is you a blood donor? Swisher full of that California
  I hit it sideways: caddy-corner
  Then she catch that nut like pneumonia—Lil Tunechi!
  Lay it down, ho , lay it down, bitch
  Lay it down, ho, lay it down
  Lay it down, lay it down, you hoes lay it down
  Lay it down, lay it down, you hoes lay it down
  Put the money on the couch, nigga
  Give me everything up in your house, nigga, shut your mouth, nigga
  Put the money on the couch nigga
  Give me everything up in your house, nigga, shut your mouth, nigga 
  Start it up: vroom, vroom
  Uppercut a bitch out the bus: boom, boom
  Unless I get the brain: pum-pum
  She let a nigga run and get the gang, run a train: zoom-zoom
  Tryna get paid too soon, one deep
  One sweep away in a room-room
  We getting money over here, talking shit and fucking bitches
  I dont know what the fuck they doing, Tune
  My syrup purple, my turf Earth, my birth circle, Ill dirt surf you
  I squirt-murk you, my verse hurtful
  My shooters still got curb curfews
  Yall bout as hot as Von Dutch, yall not gone harm much
  Hijack yall some prom bus; aint no retreat but my arms up
  No graffiti, my bombs up
  Its Young Money in this shit until a nigga dead and gone
  If you wanna set it off, what you wanna bet it on?
  Im betting the weddings off when eerything wetted on
  Point em out, Truk your life, fuck your style
  Fuck with me, you a bucket foul
  Niggasll buck your smile for a dunking pile
  You better duck it, pal
  Lay it down ho , lay it down bitch 
  Lay it down ho, lay it down 
  Lay it down, lay it down, you hoes lay it down
  Lay it down, lay it down... 
  Shawty, whats your name? Is you trickin? Is you paying?
  Is you sniffin on that caine? What the fuck, is you saying?
  If you getting it, then you getting it
  Its my money, I aint splitting it
  I aint tripping it, if she got a fat ass, then Im tipping it 
  Came out the bank—Bye, teller! Give a bum money—Hi, fella!
  Bad lil ho, high-yellow, brand new Rolie, Sky Dweller
  Just left from Dubai, flew private-eye
  I made a million dollars, swear to God, that aint no lie
  I said, them niggas was popping, fake niggas be watching
  My black glove be dripping wet, but I got my Cochran
  Losing aint no option, Im teaching bitches my doctrine
  The Maybach aint poppin, if it aint got no par-tah-tion
  Oops, I mean partition; its all a part of my vision
  I sit and count this money while I watch you bitches audition
  I said, Oops, I mean partition,; its all a part of my vision
  I sit and count this money while I watch you bitches audition, hehehe
  Fuck wrong with you bitches?
  I don’t give a fuck
  You don’t hear me, you don’t see me—bitch, you gon feel me, ho
  Young Money, Young, Young Money nigga
  Young, Young—lay it down, lay it down, you hoes lay it down
  Lay it down, lay it down, you hoes lay it down, aah!