Released: December 5, 2011
Featuring: Juicy J
Songwriter: Tyga Juicy J
Producer: Juicy J
[Hook x2: Tyga]
I say hush little baby baby, gotta lay my mack down
One real nigga bitches know my background
Bring me all, all hundreds how does that sound
Word around town, bitch I lay my mack down
[Verse 1: Tyga]
Sippin' on some sizzurp, chilling with some white bitches
Cause they richer bitches, run the game
Pitch it, I'm a catcher
I'm a pimp up under pressure, leave my money on the dresser
Shut the fuck up, start undressin
I ain't Usher, stop confessin bitch
Tools in the air, five dukes of that
Old Cadillac shit, tire on the back
For the whoopty woop woop, ass superfat
I'm ahead of these niggas, I skipped a beat; Heart Attack
Tuck your diamonds in, I'm shining, what I blind you in
No time to eat for you, I call that Ramadan a rapper shit
You like a virgin to the money, call that that Madonna shit
T-sacchi when I'm dressing, stepping on them speaking bitch
[Hook x2: Tyga]
[Verse 2: Juicy J]
Juicy J still shitting on niggas, I'm getting money out the ass. (Mhm)
Money over bitches, nigga you get money out the ass. (Mhm)
Balling, spending just for fun, I think I'll cop a Lambo
Twenty hoes, a hundred racks to Vegas just to gamble. (You know it!)
Hope you ain't going broke, trying to keep up with me. (Yessir!)
Yo baby my head is dumb, I call that ho CDC. (That bitch!)
Cash is tall for me, you need cash to talk to me
And that cash keep coming, its like that cash be stalking me
Niggas be saying they get money, just because they got a mouth. (Hell naw!)
Jacksons, Grants, and Franklins, Louie duffy got a larger mouth. (You know it!)
You haters falling off (Bitch!), I'm still getting paid. (Bitch!)
I got so many fans I can throw a parade
[Hook x2: Tyga]
I say hush little baby baby, gotta lay my mack down
One real nigga bitches know my background
Bring me all, all hundreds how does that sound
Word around town, bitch I lay my mack down
[Verse 1: Tyga]
Sippin' on some sizzurp, chilling with some white bitches
Cause they richer bitches, run the game
Pitch it, I'm a catcher
I'm a pimp up under pressure, leave my money on the dresser
Shut the fuck up, start undressin
I ain't Usher, stop confessin bitch
Tools in the air, five dukes of that
Old Cadillac shit, tire on the back
For the whoopty woop woop, ass superfat
I'm ahead of these niggas, I skipped a beat; Heart Attack
Tuck your diamonds in, I'm shining, what I blind you in
No time to eat for you, I call that Ramadan a rapper shit
You like a virgin to the money, call that that Madonna shit
T-sacchi when I'm dressing, stepping on them speaking bitch
[Hook x2: Tyga]
[Verse 2: Juicy J]
Juicy J still shitting on niggas, I'm getting money out the ass. (Mhm)
Money over bitches, nigga you get money out the ass. (Mhm)
Balling, spending just for fun, I think I'll cop a Lambo
Twenty hoes, a hundred racks to Vegas just to gamble. (You know it!)
Hope you ain't going broke, trying to keep up with me. (Yessir!)
Yo baby my head is dumb, I call that ho CDC. (That bitch!)
Cash is tall for me, you need cash to talk to me
And that cash keep coming, its like that cash be stalking me
Niggas be saying they get money, just because they got a mouth. (Hell naw!)
Jacksons, Grants, and Franklins, Louie duffy got a larger mouth. (You know it!)
You haters falling off (Bitch!), I'm still getting paid. (Bitch!)
I got so many fans I can throw a parade
[Hook x2: Tyga]