text: Call me Dracula cause all I do is count chips
  Young money mini, I aint talking bout the Mouse trick!
  These girls running like I just threw the bouquet
  They know Im headed to the top like a toupee
  Now all these bums is wondering where I bes at
  If you aint a Barbie, its none of ya freaking bees wax
  These little rappers I can see them in my dash cam
  I know theyre grouchy like Oscar up out the trash can
  Im on stage, you can sit in the crowd
  I be Up in Lear jets, take a left at the cloud 
  I think She need the Heimlich, shes the chokin kind
  She gets no burn, no smoking sign 
  Metaphor heaven
  So they approve Nicki like my credit score seven
  Mac and cheese, six, fried chicken da guts
  And Im killing these bitches
  Mike Vickin it up, Chyeah!