[Chorus:]

Bitch, you ain't gotta call my phone

Matta fact all you hoes can leave me alone

I just want my money

And now one of you nappy-headed hoes goin get none from me

Nigga, you ain't gotta call my phone

Matta fact all you niggas can leave me alone

I just want my money

And now one of my fake ass homeboys won't get none from me



[Z-RO:]

I don't need know help my nigga

I can do bad on my own

And I don't need no company lil momma

Even tho I know you give graded on

I rather play my Xbox 360 while smoking and sipping drank

Ain't even goin waste no gas, going to get some ass, I'm a keep my gas in my tank

Keep my money in my pocket I never leave it with hoes

Put a ring on my own finger cause I sleep with Z-RO

Homie I'ont giva fuck about what you drive or how much money ya got

And I don't giva damn if y'all really like me or not

I see ya lips moving but I can't hear nothing, cause I'm not listening

Hoe you only talking to me because my teeth are glistening

Y'all niggas be riding dicks so much y'all need a dildo

That way when you think about Z-RO, you can shove it up on yo ass real slow

I'm a gangsta but I'm a man first, then I tallerate, no disrespect

My momma if it's money for me to make weed goin slip the sex



[Chorus]



[Slim Thug:]

Slim Thugga, Mothafucka

I'm tryna stay rich, fuck a bitch (fuck a bitch)

I rather hit the studio and make another hit (another hit)

Stop calling on my phone mayn I'm on some other shit

Just leave a nigga 'lone, I ain't goin suck cause ya fucking with

Cause bitch you ain't about to get no dime or no quality time

I rather be on my grind, smoking weed, writing rhymes

All you rapping ass niggas calling me to get signed

Want me to rap for free, you done lost yo mind (you done lost yo mind)

I'ont care how long I knew ya give a fuck if we can

Went to high school together giva fuck if we friends

Ya ain't talking bout shit if you ain't talking bout N's

Bring ya ten G's, I see what'cha talking bout then

All you roaching ass niggas and hoes in my face

Can't get it crunk for me, no so don't waste

Yo mothafuckin crime tryna plot on mine

I got my cash in my stash locked down, so now...



[Chorus]



[Z-RO:]

It's a shame having a cell phone, but don't want it to ring

Cause I don't wanna deal with bull shit people and the bull shit they might bring

That's why I send them the voice mail heaven (I don't wanna talk)

Cause bull shit run a marathon, I rather keep it real and walk

I don't giva damn how pretty you look, you can still kiss my ass

Especially if I die to choose between you and my cash

I'm a choose money everytime, anyway I always get a new whip

Besides, I'm what bitches be tryna find, I'm young, black and I'm rich

If you thinking I'm goin pay money to hit that ass

I gotta trick fo yo ugly ass

I'll just miss you right after I hit you and then go fuck yo friends

Then you'll be ready to committing suicide and then I'll never speak to you again

My nigga Gredy, my nigga Rickby, my nigga Michael Coleon

There them only three niggas phone number programed in my phone

They call me the king of the ghetto, because I rule this bitch

I'm bout business I don't participate in foolishness, bitch



[Chorus]