| Because I’m hot — smoke designer pot |
| 'Bout to make a movie, so don’t act like a groupie |
| I’m loopy, loopy, right |
| Loopy, loopy, right |
| My Coupe look like Bruce Wayne’s |
| Trapped on some new chains |
| Few rings, some new chains |
| My whip wide, need two lanes |
| They doped up, need new veins |
| Fresh like first school days |
| Hot kicks, some cool shades |
| I’m looped up like shoe strings |
| I’m shootin' game at your bitch |
| And she ain’t got a vest on |
| Superman in this bitch |
| I ain’t even got my S on |
| Your house on my necklace |
| Your whip on my left arm |
| Straight candy paint on that Chevrolet |
| And she gassed up like Chevron |
| Hear them talk, but we don’t care |
| Roll up on 'em like a wheelchair |
| Coke Boyz, we all in |
| Her pussy wide, I fall in |
| Both inside and ballin' |
| My bitch imported from Berlin |
| My cut like Bruce Lee |
| Top off that new V |
| All about that loose leaf |
| Ball hard like 2−3 |
| Stones on my wrist glass |
| 12 on my bitch bag |
| I catch wreck like gym class |
| I’m looped up like Six Flags |
| I’m loopy, everything’s signed and sealed |
| I’m gettin' paid even when I chill |
| They say chill don’t pay the bills |
| But I’mma have to disagree |
| That shit don’t apply to me |
| Right, ain’t a nigga higher |
| Gold member, no lines, priority flying |
| Australia like «what up, mate?» |
| Smokin' on some sour |
| Eatin' mahi mahi, sippin' on Açaí |
| Right, perps of the game |
| Little man from Spain holding up my name |
| Round table meetings with the bosses of the game |
| For the Obama campaign |
| A nigga was tryna get this change |
| Boys get no air time |
| Really, I’m too loopy to even care, god |
| I bought my bitch a new whip |
| But me, I’d rather wear mine |
| I’m looped up like Six Flags |
| I’m looped up like Six Flags |
| I’m looped up like Six Flags |
| I catch wreck like gym class |
| I’m looped up like Six Flags |