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More champagne please, more sour by the oz More bad bitches, you better let them through This the party of the year, I've been telling you shake down Money spenders, vintage low sweaters, Brooklyn niggas, well known go getters Good wine and Louie luggage Corporate times loving how the mafia thug it I mean Reporting live from the hood miss no opera money But guess what I'm hood rich believe that Shot town, fuck what you got a lot now I'm the skipper so I'm fucking on the yacht ah I'm killing them since 02, said I work down town, call it soul food Kind of my city and hell yeah I be the go too Boss up on these hoes like I'm supposed to Ah, me and Diddy, world wide touring And y'all know I'm a designer foreign If the haters wanna hate, let the haters hate But if they wanna get some money tell them haters wait Ball hard like D rose, you busters start paying for them free whores Fucking the game up, too much bacon and soda Fucking the cane up Make a nigga wanna go jump my chamber I take that bitch, in the streets I'm getting money do backflips while I I'm just living in Miami like 4,5,6 my kind of dice Fucking them hoes, they come back like cook coke That's my west coast bitch, she got good throat Ah, I feel like I got wings on On my hottest bitches, they got me on they ringtone Aus Songtexte Mania