text: Watch, mhm, Glock, mhm, cocked, mhm, got it, mhm
  You need that? I got it, this cash, my pockets
  The Cat one hundred, you need that? I got it
  Need it, got it, cash, pockets
  Bands on me, sticks on me
  You need that? I got it, this cash, my pockets
  The Cat one hundred, you need that?
  Yeah, she like how I throw them racks, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Keep on throwin that cash, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Keep on throwin that ass, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Benz truck in the back, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  I know you dont like me, you wanna fight me
  You dont want no problems at your party, dont invite me
  I dont worry bout you niggas, please stop talking bout me
  Always talking bout me cause you looking for the clouty
  6ix-nina, the 9ine-nina
  Riding in a two-seater with two ninas
  Baby got that Aquafina, its cocaina
  Smoking on that OG reefer, no TMZ-a
  Forgiatos on a Benz truck, make her friends fuck
  Told her she could get Chanel if she let my friends fuck
  Stars shining in the Rolls Royce, it got red guts
  Wait, hold up, nah, I still dont give a fuck
  Vroom, vroom, G5, vroom, vroom, we high
  You the type of nigga that I never wanna be like
  You a type of bitch that will never get a reply
  Hi, hater, bye, hater, vroom
  Yeah, she like how I throw them racks, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Keep on throwin that cash, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Keep on throwin that ass, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Benz truck in the back, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Dollar, dollar bill, come get her
  Even your man know Nickis do it better
  I know you dont like me, you wanna fight me
  Always on my page, never double-tap like me
  Baddies to my left and my right
  Never chase a corny nigga, put that on my life
  Just put it in his face, all this cake, he wanted a taste
  We sippin on that Ace, itty-bitty waist, pretty face
  Yeah, eat it, Cookie Monster 
  He a slave to this pussy, call me master
  Real wet, I said, Slurp it like its pasta
  They get nervous when its Nicki on the roster 
  Somebody usher this nigga into a clinic
  My flows still sick, I aint talkin a pandemic
  I write my own lyrics, a lot of these bitches gimmicks
  They study Nicki style, now all of them wan mimic
  Talkin bout snitches when its snitches in your camp
  Never stand alone, you always itchin for a stamp
  Me, Im still money, wrists light up like a lamp
  They gon have to send they best fighter for the champ
  Racks, I got em, Mary, Im poppin
  They keep hatin, but still watchin
  Check the boards, Im still toppin
  Bustdown or plain jane, I got options
  Its a bunch of mini-mes, Im the one they mockin
  Showed you how to get a bag, now you goin shoppin
  When I come out, all the snake bitches start plottin 
  When I come out, its a sweep, bitches start moppin
  Yeah, she like how I throw them racks, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Keep on throwin that cash, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Keep on throwin that ass, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Benz truck in the back, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
  Watch, mhm, Glock, mhm, cocked, mhm, got it, mhm
  If he like, I throw it fast, real fast, fast, fast
  He singin my old song, yellin, Ass, ass, ass
  They be speedin, tryna beat me, then they crash, crash, crash
  Still a hundred like the number on my dash, dash, dash
  That real ass aint keep your nigga home