[Intro]
For all them hoes that was frontin' on niggas back in the day (this for my broke jiggy niggas) excuse me, fuck out my face. They say wealth is in the mind, not the pocket, I learned that from a very wise man

[Verse]
Okay excuse me, Mr. Bill Collector, I got problems
My check arrive mañana, I'ma pay my debt, I promise
I spent 20 thousand dollars with my partners in Bahamas
Another 20 thousand dollars on Rick Owens out in Barneys
I said excuse me, why the fuck you lookin'? What's your problem?
I swear we gon' have drama if you touch my tailored garments
All you see is niggas here, so that means it's triggers there
What you mean? We got weed, and codeine and bricks for sale
I bet a lot of niggas plottin' so you know I got that heater, bruh
Drive my side of Harlem, catch me ridin' with my nina, bruh
She got an apple bottom that remind you of Bonita, bruh
Oh you mean like Q-Tip? Now that girl my new bitch
Excuse me, no, I believe the proper term's excuse you
I could switch up on you niggas and start shittin' if I choose to
That's when the new you becomin' different since they knew you
I guess the new me is just gon' take some gettin' used to