Intro:
Aww yeah
King of the ghetto entertainment n***a
That’s right
Screwed up click for life n***a
Ain’t nothing change
Simple day
And I’m motherfucking rich beyond belief
Never thought it would be this here n***a
And yall n***as hate that shit
Talkin bout that n***a Ro’ rich
He drive a hundred thousand dollar coupes and shit
He ain’t hungry no motherfucking mo’
Yeah
So that n***a can’t rap no mo’ I know that n***a can’t freestyle no motherfucking mo’
(Freestyle, freestyle, freestyle with the S.U.C)
Oh yeah n***a?
You really wanna call me out like that
Put me to the test
That’s when I love that shit
So I finna give it to yo motherfucking ass know what I’m talkin bout
You be the judge

Verse:
If you ain’t a chef
What the fuck you in the kitchen cooking fo’
If you ain’t T Ferris
How the fuck you gon’ book a show
If you went through main event Sam Wethers been took it though
Instead of tripping with me that’s who you need to be looking fo’
I ain’t scared of na’ n***a
Go to war with air n***a
Get rich or die trying to get rich is the plan n***a
My life and all night and all day paper chase homie
Fuck rapping that ratchet be really tuck in my waist homie
Fuck loosing my life ima take that murder case homie
Im alive plus living 200 dollar steaks homie
Fuck a lunchable 3 swallows and it’s over with
You can’t be a soldier you half a man you supposed to quit
You a hoe bitch and half of another hoe one
N***a you in the book club real n***as? You don’t know none
I’m in the book club too it’s a different type of brick
Plus your woman love fucking me this a different type of dick
When I’m rapping they pay attention this a different type of spit
This ain’t a skinny jeans anthem naw this a different type of hit
Just being honest how I feel about you bitches
I’d rather jackoff cuz ain’t nothing real about you bitches
Unless im pimpin’ getting the dollar bill up out you bitches
I can honestly go through the next ten years without you bitches
Money over yall
Most likely ones in the club
Money overall, I ain’t even walkin’ in ya club
Till I count it and I make sure it’s what it supposed to be
Fuck a bodyguard I don’t let people get close to me
A bitch ass n***a that’s what you can’t get Zro to be
Don’t give a fuck about anybody that’s Zro to me
It been 16 years but it felt like a couple weeks ago
Dead from the grave still coming out your speakers though
Boxing game invincible I promise you can’t see me bro
I’m Saturday night live all week my life is a tv show
Baby mama she want half of my shit
King of the ghetto entertainment
Zro ain’t got shit yeah
Get a job bitch get off of my dick
Yo name wrote in permanent marker can’t get off of my list
It’s still slow loud and banging still all in the trunk
Buck shots and double lock slugs all in the pump
Rap n***as is gay
They let men go all in they rump
Let a man try to get extra friendly with me ima kill him
I’ll spindle him dead I promise I got somewhere to send him
Swing hard as I can I’m actually trying to put my fist in em’
I’m a gangsta baby mad at me because I won’t be a square
I ain’t trying to rub my fingers through her nappy ass hair
I ain’t trying to take a walk in the park that shit is gay to me
Rather get my hustle on that sound like all day to me
My volume on low homie I can’t hear what you say to me
Rich enough to send a rack to everybody that hated me
Hold up!