[Intro: Sample]
Cry, cry, cry
I started to cry, cry, cry
I started to cry, cry, cry
I started to cry, cry, cry
I started to cry

[Verse 1: Lou Phelps]
Yo, how many mics do I rip on the daily
My niggas getting money, you not even getting a penny
How many shows do I rip annually
Your boy be getting money, your man stacking a felony
So much it got you looking like a cat
You realize your only exit out the hood is to rap
I been getting niggas salty like a culinary chef
Boom bow, I kicked them, the beat is still fresh to death
Oh, you see the 'Preme on my back, right?
I got your bitch asking like, "Who is that guy?"
Bomber jackets 'cause we going to war
Do not need a receiver, foot flex on the floor
Um, she talking 'bout she only wants to fuck billionaires
The billionaires want some bitches with some real hair
Money so long, call that shit weave
Flying overseas, used to call that shit weak
For some of y'all, swag jacking is a hobby
Never catch me slacking, procrastination is my forte
Caso is what, wanted the husband of Beyonce