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[Intro: Yo Gotti & Nicki Minaj]
Aw, this the strip club anthem, nigga, what’s up?
Young Money
Yeah, me and Mike WiLL pull up to AOD back to back
Them AMG 63’s

[Chorus: Yo Gotti]
I tell all my hoes, “Rake it up
Break it down, bag it up”
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
I made love to a stripper (stripper) first I had to tip her
Fuck it up

[Drop: Yo Gotti]
Don’t need make-up
I tell all my hoes, fuck it up
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up
You a bitch
Don’t need make up
I tell all my hoes, fuck it up
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up

[Verse 2: Nicki Minaj]
Brought out the pink Lamborghini just to race with Chyna
Brought the Wraith to China just to race in China
Lil’ bad Trini bitch but she mixed with China
Real thick vagina, smuggle bricks to China (woo)
I tell all my niggas (yo) cut the check (cut the check)
Buss it down, turn your goofy down (down), pound
I’ma do splits on it, yes, splits on it (splits)
I’m a bad bitch, I’ma throw fits on it (fits)
I’ma bust it open, I’ma go stupid and be a ditz on it (ditz)
I don’t date honey (no) cookie on tsunami (oh)
All my niggas wife me once they get that good punani (oh)
I think he need a Bonnie, I might just let him find me
Never trust a big butt and a smile, word to Ronnie
Re-rep Queens like Supreme, ask Webb and Nitti
A-ask Bimmy and Joe, nigga, run me my dough
Wr-wrist game is freezin’ like it wait in the cold
Nickname is Nicki but my name ain’t Nicole (grrr)

[Chorus: Yo Gotti]
I tell all my hoes, “Rake it up
Break it down, bag it up”
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Back it up, back it up (back it up, back it up)
Well, I’m the dough boy, the one they talkin’ about
Fuck it up

[Drop: Yo Gotti]
Don’t need make-up
I tell all my hoes, fuck it up
Fuck it up
You a little bitty, bitty bitch, yah
Don’t need make-up
I tell all my hoes, fuck it up
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up (fuck it up, fuck it up)
Rake it up, rake it up (rake it up, rake it up)
Fuck it up, fuck it up, yah
You a little bitty, bitty bitch

[Intro]
Zaytoven

[Chorus]
Baking soda on the counter
J’s at the door
I got bails in the attic
Money in the floor
Brown bag, back and forth like a grocery store
Plastic bags, in and out and that shit filled with dope
Baking soda on the counter
J’s at the door
I got bails in the attic
Money in the floor
Brown bag, back and forth like a grocery store
Plastic bags, back and forth and that shit filled with dope

[Verse 1: Yo Gotti]
Yo
Ain’t no credit when you shop with me
You want some credit, leave your car with me
I tell my bitch she gon’ go far with me
But she may have to take a charge for me
Baking soda in the ‘fridgerator
I got money, that shit come with haters
What you want, what you need
I got pounds, I got keys
I got Goyard, that’s a bag
Go hard for the bag
I got no heart, I’m heartless
For the bag, I’m retarded
Birkin bag with the crocodile
Yeah my bitch been around
I gave my bitch a real bag
I got faith she gon’ hold it down

[Chorus]
Baking soda on the counter
J’s at the door
I got bails in the attic
Money in the floor
Brown bag, back and forth like a grocery store
Plastic bags, in and out and that shit filled with dope
Baking soda on the counter
J’s at the door
I got bails in the attic
Money in the floor
Brown bag, back and forth like a grocery store
Plastic bags, back and forth and that shit filled with dope

[Verse 2: Yo Gotti]
Yo
Why the trap smell like onions
What’s that loud odor
I’ve been sackin’ brown bags like I work at Kroger
Not concerned with no payment nigga, what the total
I jumped out my Bentley coupe into a Toyota
Seatbelt, rental car trafficking
Blood on my diamonds, bitch I’m African
Quit puttin’ your bag on that ‘gram, boy that real life
You’ll have them feds and them robbers at you, real life
I put my money in the ground and molded
Put my trust in a nigga and he folded
Can’t believe that nigga took the stand and told
Fuck your bitch in the trap [?]

[Chorus]
Baking soda on the counter
J’s at the door
I got bails in the attic
Money in the floor
Brown bag, back and forth like a grocery store
Plastic bags, in and out and that shit filled with dope
Baking soda on the counter
J’s at the door
I got bails in the attic
Money in the floor
Brown bag, back and forth like a grocery store
Plastic bags, back and forth and that shit filled with dope

Yo

It’s so mothafuckin hot i catch a tan in this bitch
Like a mailman i’m poppin rubber bands in this bitch
We be on that hot shit so don’t get fanned in this bitch
Left the club with her but she came with her man in this bitch
I’m so mothafuckin high that i can’t stand in this bitch
You a mothafuckin lie you say i ran from some shit
Prolly run off on the plug, prolly run off with his drugs, nigga run up on me wrong so he ran into some slugs
And I’m prolly in the club if he ask is we some thugs
No security with me cause bitch we deep and we got guns
He was chasing me ain’t know i brought my sack into the club
Play with me and mine lotta niggas die in cold blood
When i hit the spot bet they lettin out that Red Rum
Run up in yo spot green beams on all our guns
She got expensive taste have my dick all on her gums
Boy they buildings vacant lots shit cause I’m from the slums
Fill a nigga up with this hot shit, bitch you better not run
Thought it was a fair fight he ain’t know i had my gun
Fucked her on the first night and she caught my first son
Are you the toughest nigga in the crowd? Then you the first one
Aye Lil Stewie these hoes starstruck they say i do some
You a broke nigga petty ass use a coupon
It’s just me and Yae pull up on yo j with 2 guns
We ain’t aimin at yo legs bitch we aimin at yo head bitch, i’m eatin good i’m fed bitch, that Tropicana shit red bitch, niggas in the house on that scared shit, you hidin under that bed bitch
Vacay with my AK with my feet all in that sand bitch
You know i’m on a walk up with a drum like i’m playin in a band bitch
I’m so mothafuckin high that i can’t see straight
These bitches see me 3-D and they press replay
I’m a shooter nigga i should be on EA
Choppa in the front seat that’s my new bae
You trippin boy you better tie yo shoelace
F&N pencil bullets don’t get erased
If my bitch get outta line she get replaced
I scratch you off the list yea I hit the backspace
And my bankrolls big like my fanbase
Forensics searchin but they still can’t find the shellcases
Bitch i ball like a cancer patient, I’m the shit boy i’m constipated, i hang around robbers and you can get yo shit confiscated, i’m on the phone with Ben Franklin money my conversation, I shoot ya chest and ya leg ya head ugly combination, they mad cause we made it they hatin use it for motivation, I live in the fast lane my life is a celebration
I just bought a brand new choppa a baby K
I run up in a nigga house broad day
I been at the finish line but yall late
The judge want me locked down behind them tall gates
Fuck these bitches i just want the money!
I was sellin snow & it was sunny!
I take my time and wrap em like a mummy!
No Hilfiger but i got my Tommy!
Yo time is runnin out cock my Glock and brung it out
They don’t come outside cause they hidin they ain’t comin out
This Big Mac with a lot of fries ain’t no runnin out
I’m so mothafuckin hot bitches see me and start fallin out
Gaaaang gang

[Intro: Ty Dolla $ign]
Don’t sleep on me (Don’t sleep)
Stop sleeping on (Don’t sleep)
Stop sleeping on (Please don’t sleep)
Stop sleep on me (Na na na na na)
Don’t sleep on me (Don’t sleep)
Stop sleeping on (Don’t sleep)
Stop sleeping on (Please don’t sleep)
Stop sleep on me (Na na na na na)

[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Don’t sleep on me
Don’t creep on me
Don’t creep on me
Don’t let me find out
Don’t sleep on me
Please don’t creep on me
Don’t creep on me
No, don’t let me find out
Don’t let me find out
Don’t let me find out
Don’t let me find out
Don’t let me find out
Don’t sleep on me
Please don’t creep on me
Don’t sleep on me
No, don’t let me find out
Don’t let me find out
Don’t sleep on me

[Verse 1: Ty Dolla $ign]
Ay, don’t creep on me
Ay, got my piece on me
Ay, and you know I’m crazy
Crazy of you
Out of my mind, ain’t no telling what I’d do
Girl, we both made that promise, I ain’t switching up
Stay solid even when I got my money up
Remember when you f*cked me in the beamer truck
I was running out of gas, only asked you once
Always came up on the wheels, never on the bus
Always did her own sh*t for her, what everybody does
We was geeking off the Molly at the festival
Now I’m in the booty club, throwin’ all the ones

[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Don’t sleep on me
Don’t creep on me
Don’t creep on me
Don’t let me find out
Don’t sleep on me
Please don’t creep on me
Don’t creep on me
No, don’t let me find out

[Post-Chorus: Future]
Can’t sip my lean if you gon’ go to sleep
Don’t you sip my lean, don’t you sleep on me
Don’t you sleep on me, Hermes all on me
Don’t you sleep on me, I pass you up in the big old V

[Verse 2: Future]
I just went out with some ooh, ooh
She hit me up with some new juice
Champagne at the photoshoot
Celebratin’ on curfew
Straight shots, never curve you
She’s 6’3″ when you swerve through
Droppin’ points on you [?]
Grateful tatted on my arm
Jelous bitches be despising me
What does f*ck they from?
Who hidin’?
Fuck them niggas, check the iTunes
Turned they goons all to my goons
No sleep gang [?]
Only pain we recognize is pills (pills)
Xans, xans, got you dosing off
NoDoz, Hublots, got you showing off
Xans, xans, got you dosing off
Pendants, bracelets, diamond chains, got you going off

[Bridge: Future]
We make love the first time we see
We make love and not wise with the sneak
We make love the first time we see
We make love and not wise with the sneak

[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Don’t sleep on me
Don’t creep on me
Don’t creep on me
Don’t let me find out
Don’t sleep on me
Please don’t creep on me
Don’t creep on me
No, don’t let me find out

[Post-Chorus: Future]
Can’t sip my lean if you gon’ go to sleep
Don’t you sip my lean, don’t you sleep on me
Don’t you sleep on me, Hermes all on me
Don’t you sleep on me, I pass you up in the big old V

[Verse 3: 24hrs]
She play Twenty in the hills when she lonely
She said, “Twenty, do you want to f*ck my homie?”
All my bitches bad, and they ain’t got no stomach
Gucci jacket, cost me 54 hunnid
Aye, Twenty, tell Dolla, I f*ck with him
You workin’, I seen you, I’m next, you hear
Don’t sleep on me, that’s my only fear
She said, “Twenty, boy, this your year”

[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Don’t sleep on me
Don’t creep on me
Don’t creep on me
Don’t let me find out
Don’t sleep on me
Please don’t creep on me
Don’t creep on me
No, don’t let me find out

[Post-Chorus: Future]
Can’t sip my lean if you gon’ go to sleep
Don’t you sip my lean, don’t you sleep on me
Don’t you sleep on me, Hermes all on me
Don’t you sleep on me, I pass you up in the big old V

[Outro: Ty Dolla $ign]
You know I’m crazy
Crazy for you
Out my mind
Ain’t no telling what I’ll do
You know I’m crazy
Crazy for you
Out my mind
Ain’t no telling what I’ll do

[Chorus: Pharrell]
Seein’ things isn’t a good enough excuse
When you are just sitting right there
I know you ain’t just gon’ stare
Bein’ things you never imagined, the possibility’s up the air
I know you ain’t just gon’ stare

[Post-Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Saint Laurent my denim
Reckless how I’m livin’
Brand new diamond chain
Gang, gang, gang, gang
Day day 4-0
I might take your ho
When I walk through the door
There he go, there he go

[Verse 1: Ty Dolla $ign]
911, I bust ’em
My bitch just got to customs
Foreign, foreign, foreign, foreign
We on Crenshaw soarin’
New McLaren or DeLorean
Move around and go forward
She be on all fours
You know I be all for it
Just got through signin’ a deal, uh
Just got through poppin’ the seal, ayy
She on the hunt for a thrill, uh
She know that that’s somethin’ I can give
Dolla don’t want no mo’ kids, uh
Dolla just want some more Ms, yeah
Dolla don’t want no mo’ friends
Dolla just want some more Ms, yeah
Skrrt, skrrt in a Benz, uh
Skeet, skeet on her friends, uh
I got nines, I got tens, uh
I just hit some new twins
Just passed on a lick
Still got Act’ in the fridge
Ran it up on the wrist
See you lookin’ and sh*t

[Chorus: Pharrell]
Seein’ things isn’t a good enough excuse
When you are just sitting right there
I know you ain’t just gon’ stare
Bein’ things you never imagined, the possibility’s up the air
I know you ain’t just gon’ stare

[Post-Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Saint Laurent my denim
Reckless how I’m livin’
Brand new diamond chain
Gang, gang, gang, gang
Day day 4-0
I might take your ho
When I walk through the door
There he go, there he go

[Verse 2: Ty Dolla $ign]
They got emotions through semen
Your thot is suckin’, you creamin’
‘Cause Dolla hittin’ it, gettin’ it
Get ya outta here, he hittin’ it
Moves all business, baby
I got everything but limits lately
I just dabbled in some real estate
24K on my dinner plate
Yeah, that’s all gold everything
Money over everything
Be your best friend, be your zaddy, girl
Yeah, I could your everything
Get you anything but a wedding ring
Pull up in that Medellin
That coke white and that’s Off-White
Guess the supermodels only f*ck twice
And if you act right, you could get that Act’ right
If I f*ck you at my crib, then girl, you got that back tight
Ay, I’m not them, I’m that guy
Spaceships, I’m that high
Superfly, I’m that fly
So, understand why…pshh

[Chorus: Pharrell]
Seein’ things isn’t a good enough excuse
When you are just sitting right there
I know you ain’t just gon’ stare
Bein’ things you never imagined, the possibility’s up the air
I know you ain’t just gon’ stare

[Verse 3: Wiz Khalifa & Ty Dolla $ign]
Keep goin’ through your phone
Keep stackin’ up your dough (woo, woo)
Keep ballin’, let the money grow
Cris’ smell like venom
Keep a eye on the snakes, though
Keep a watch full of icicles
‘Bout the hoes, we don’t like niggas
All the sh*t that I been through, I can’t even explain
Smokin’ Ls to the brain
Gang, gang, gang, gang
On the plane with my bad bitch
Come to flavors, I got variants
Too much luggage, I can’t carry it
Lot of money, I might marry it
We ain’t stayin’ at the Marriott
Presidential, that’s my residential
Need someone to clean her panties up
Smokin’ wwed soon as your man get up
She with me ’cause she a fan of us
Young Khalifa on the cannabis
And no, I can’t say that I blame her (uh)
I’m puttin’ KK in the paper (yeah)
I’m coppin’ a crib with no neighbors (ooh)
I’m takin’ them pics with my haters (wow)
Don’t need you to do me no favors
I be on point like a laser (ooh)
Don’t think I’m sweet ’cause I’m famous (no)
My niggas cockin’ and aimin’ (damn, wow, bang, brrow)

[Chorus: Pharrell]
Seein’ things isn’t a good enough excuse
When you are just sitting right there
I know you ain’t just gon’ stare
Bein’ things you never imagined, the possibility’s up the air
I know you ain’t just gon’ stare