text: Stuttering
  Give em the rest and make em love again
  In my best, I be the runner dem
  And I have the man dem stuttering-ing
  Im getting this nigga in the morning
  He gon think he been chiefing, just too long when
  He see me in the evening
  Wanna catch all these feelings
  Well, let me be the first to get mine, oh
  Yeah, ayy, yo, ayy, yo
  Barbeque and blow in the back of the crib
  Sitting and counting, smoking a spliff, this shits a gift
  All my niggas watches is rough
  Grabbin our crotches, yellin, What up?
  The jeans cost five hundred? Fuck
  Stop it, keep baking, see the smell, its a statement
  One freeze of this shit, you wont feel your legs, kid
  Im a gangster, corporate hustler, my voice is illustrious
  Hounded by vicious dons, nigga, we armed, trust me, bruh
  They yellin, Chef killer, play with the cooks
  I say, Yay, with two chains on, we common, lets push
  Burn another bush then burn another, we brothers
  Love us or not, the Mark Zuckerbergs of the block
  Hug a knot, staying rich, we was built for the guap
  Park the green six deuce on the deuce, just props
  Rock a kilt, mean Glock, Im all machinery, ock
  Cling to me, now see how the scenery rock, yo?
  Im getting this nigga in the morning
  He gon think he been chiefing, just too long when
  He see me in the evening
  Wanna catch all these feelings
  Well, let me be the first to get mine, oh
  I was born by a lake, chicken shack and a church
  That mean the flow got wings and it come from the dirt
  Godly, I know she wanna test the Rari
  Eye on a dollar like Illuminati
  Life is foggy, trying to see through the mist of it
  Could have been living it, you was Mrs. Mischievous
  This is just a letter to better your development 
  Situation delicate
  Some claim God body, blame Illuminati
  All cause his pockets now knotty as his hair, yeah
  All Sonny, no Cher, only solitaires
  You clusterfucks could cluster up
  On tippy-toe and still not muster up
  So its 
  In God we trust, the game is all us
  Til the sky calls or its flames on us, Push
  Im getting this nigga in the morning
  He gon think he been chiefing, just too long when
  He see me in the evening 
  Wanna catch all these feelings 
  Well, let me be the first to get mine, oh 
  2 Chainz
  Im chilling in my camo, Im flipping through the channel 
  On my G.O.O.D. Music shit, my logos a Lambo 
  Four doors of ammo
  Ammunition, Im pitching
  To make your body switch another position
  Yeah
  I hope the people is listening
  I could never sell my soul, I gave it back to God at my christening
  Its tickling when I hear what haters be whispering
  What makes you think the Illuminati would ever let some niggas in?
  Huh, fake friends and siblings
  Like to wish you well but aint never flicked a nickel in
  Haters wanna pull they pistol when they see me in this race car
  But you cant spell war without a A-R
  15, I was pushing carts at K-Mart
  By 21, they said Id be inside a graveyard
  Cant wait to get that black American Express
  So I can show them white folks how to really pull the race card
  Yeah, you feeling on top now?
  Getting that money, nigga?
  Yeah, you feeling on top now?
  Getting that money, nigga?
  Yeah, you feeling on top now?
  Getting that money, nigga?
  Nah, man, mad people was fronting
  Aw, man, made something from nothing
  I treat the label like money from my shows
  G.O.O.D. would have been G.O.D., except I added more Os
  If I knew she was cheating and still bought her more clothes
  Its cause I was too busy with my Baltimore, you know
  Some people call that the art of war, you know
  I guess it depends what you falling for, the clothes?
  Cars, money, girls and the clothes
  All money, you sold your soul
  Nah, man, mad people was fronting
  God damn, we made something from nothing