Featuring: Mack Maine Rick Ross

Songwriter: Birdman

Producer: DJ Khaled

[Hook: Rick Ross]
My niggas one hunnit, my corner one hunnit
The car cost a hunnit, the drum hold a hunnit
Just smoking my ganja, this joint cost a hunnit
The Nikes cost a hunnit, the ice in abundance

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
Now I'm fucking with H, can't be taking no shorts
We scoring the points, we done made it a sport
Scheduled to testify, never made it to court
I sprinkle pesticide, set a trap and you go
You can't be talking loud when you walking in the house
Fuck what you talking bout, bitch you walking in and out
I ain't whipping no ounce, I ain't touching no ounce
If you fuck with an ounce, get the fuck out the house
Cause it's only squares, when you come in here
So for all you squares, let me make it clear
Let me get it straight, I'm the fish in the tank
Not the fish in the tank
I got money to make

[Hook: Rick Ross]
My niggas 100, my corner 100
The car cost 100, the drum hold 100
Just smoking my ganja, this joint cost 100
The nights cost 100, the ice in abundance
My niggas 100, my corner 100
The car cost 100, the drum hold 100
Just smoking my ganja, this joint cost 100
The Nikes cost 100, the ice in abundance

[Verse 2: Mack Maine]
Real nigga in the building, where the work at
That New Orleans Saint's fitted, that's my work hat
My niggas got that H, percs, white and purp
And they shoot off one leg they awkward like Dirk
Thug Life, Thug Life, bitch I'm feeling like Pac
When I'm riding up the block
Bout to release the 50 shots, off top
You bitch you, you'll get your issue
Your family, they gonna miss you
They gonna find you in [?]
Bury that boy with tissue
Since he was a cry baby, ya mami over ya casket
Asking lord why baby
See I live in a world where they mistreat black babies
And in a hood that crack babies
Grow up just to jack babies
Bitch I'm from New Orleans, you can't come where I'm from
Got a drum on a K pa rup a pum pum pum
Boy I ain't no fronter, it's Ross Mack and stunner
I put 50 on 50, that's why they call me 100

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Birdman]
See we stuntin, fuck with me, poppin bottles, throwin money
Niggas giving headshots, bitch no running
Them hundreds came fast, bitches came quicker
Wet candy paint stick and move, start dipping
We ran through the trenches, jumping over fences
Got it out the field, now my homies doing digits
Shinning on these bitches, after hour count tickets
Got it from my G's, now we on another mission
We focus on another sattle, another batch
Another bird full of H, nigga coming like that
Slamp back Caddy, dipping while we dropping
Blowin while we countin, hundred G's in my pocket, one M

[Hook]

Birdman

Say what you will about the man’s often-simple lyrics, Bryan “Birdman” Williams is the last of the hip-hop moguls (Diddy, Suge Knight, et. al.) to remain standing and relevant. His record label has been putting out important albums since 1992, including some of the most important New Orleans rap of the era – works by Kilo G, U.N.L.V., Lil Slim, Ms. Tee, Pimp Daddy, the Hot Boys (and their breakout star, Lil Wayne) and more

Despite Birdman’s oft-simple flows and his propensity to hide his own chin, he has managed to appear on tons of bangin' songs over the past almost two decades. Let’s see how your favorite rapper’s career is doing in twenty years. Brrrrrr!