Check - Hustle Gang, T.I., Trae Tha Truth

Clean money, talking limousine money

Got a nigga hand hurting when he counting

Get a new machine for me (we bout that motherfucking)

Dirty cash, want a break it, thirty cash

In a new Mercedes Benz burning gas (we bout that motherfucking)

In god we trust, if you about that, you aight with us

I only got a gat, won’t fight, won’t run, I’ma put it in your life (we bout

that motherfucking)

Big bank roll, rubber band trap money

That’s what I had way before the rap money

Now I got it and he don’t nigga want to act funny

Listen homie (we bout that motherfucking check)

Even still I’ma die for my respect

You cross that line, let it fly about that

Anybody know me, know that I ain’t lying about that

Matter fact (we bout that motherfucking)

Currency and revenue, all a nigga ever do is get it then spend it then get it,

get it

Whether misdemeanor or regional

To felony to federal

I got to heaven brah I’m telling you, telling you

We bout that motherfucking check (run it, run it)

You better motherfucking check

Hustle gang in that motherfucker chyea

We bout that motherfucking check (turn it, turn it)

Boy this how we motherfucking do it

Flip back, bust two, make mula (we bout that motherfucking check)

I ain’t talking nikes brah

My diamonds are enlightening brah

Shit flashed, think lightning struck

Get you tightened up (we bout that motherfucking)

Two dub, no screw driver

Diamond lane, no crew liver

Bought another watch, I’m two timing

Both boos shining (we bout that motherfucking)

Like an employee but I’m bossing on these hoes

Either I’m campaigning on revenue or out flossing on my foes

I do it for the niggas that was out on Slauson on the fours

Then made a way to be able to be on Rodeo shop, shopping when it’s closed

Brah that’s boss talk, Giuseppe’s what a boss walk in

This beef ain’t no talking, fuck walking

Action, run up on me see

Green up like a top of a tree

Peanuts no cashew, seeing if I have to

Everyday to get to a check what

Aye hold up, Dro

Tear the whole bed up

Bitch think I went to the crib (?)

ATL mobbing, ATL robbing

And when I hit a lick it be perfect just like a set up

My bitch got a set

My daughter, she about to turn six got a set

Half a million dollars in cash from serving the gas

That’ll show a nigga bitch how to act

Racks, all in your head like tylenol

Pockets so big they thought I hit the powerball

Tell your bitch hoody-hoo like the owl call

We eating over here, south boy

Chyea, and I ain’t finna play about it

Any nigga try to fuck with it, they better pray about it

All about my business, I recommend that you stay up out it

Yea I’m on the way up out of it

Eight zeroes, everything on reload

You can find me somewhere in the ghetto with a kilo

Cause all I pay is c notes

There ain’t shit I won’t stash

Got to get cash, on a mission until I’m out of gas

Hundred on the dash, I’ma put a hater on his ass

Treat him like a new beat, I’ma put him on blast