CURRIE Mother talked to the game Livin' far from the lanes Livin' out in the hills Jewish guys pay my bills Jewish nigga pay my tax Over 500 racks Uncle Sam need a slap My new accountant need a dat My new bitch need a bag Who me? Lab Bitch, you better save your money Get creative with the paper like arts and crafts Bitch, I'm archin' backs Nigga, I'm architect Nigga, I built this house all by myself Bitch, where was you at? You was standin' in the back You was sittin' on another nigga lap Takin' pics, duck face, quack quack You was never in a trap You was livin' in a dorm room Never ever strapped in, sport backpack Matter of fact, you was white Wasn't you, you was hot Had bricks, you was jacked Lil' nigga fought back Yeah, cap, cap, cap, cap My mom is my newest accountant She busy countin' my thousands I lost a lot of money, that was a downer Whole fam in position of power Put riches in the community And we started fixin' the problem Hey, steppin' on the scene with a couple of bands Three hoes like I'm Santa Turnin' Jacob to a dentist My money store me, make it rain like Kylie Jenner When I'm on the mic and I spit that rap I'ma kill the track ASAP, I put Ne-Yo on my back Tesla, Cybertruck up on the dash Honey, bitch is badder than Stacey Dash They gettin' mad, I'm the lord, I hear all the chats They call on me, but I don't call them back I bark like a cue, while you cap or cap AKA with the AK, she rat-a-tat-tat-tat Ayy, ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy