(Intro – Starrah)
I got racks on the menu
She need more shawty cash on the menu
Show some more, need that ass on a menu
Make it clap cause we got cash on the menu
(Chorus – Starrah)
Oooh, f**k around and order more, money
Oooh, f**k around and order more
Oooh, baby we gon order more, money
Oooh, f**k around and order more
Gon throw it back, cause I got racks on the menu
You ain’t even gotta ask shawty, cash on the menu
The way you drop and shake it fast, need that ass on a menu
Yeah baby, make it clap cause we got cash on the menu
(Verse 1 – G-Eazy)
I’m popping champagne, now I’m pouring more
I just ran out of ones it’s time to order more
So if you want this cash you gotta show some more
That private dance is through that corridor, let’s go
I’m off drugs and a bunch of shots
After party at my crib with a bunch of thots
So order more bottles don’t care what the cost
My neighbor is a bi**h they tried to call the cops, you bi**h
F**k you I’m living life, all good don’t need advice
Pu**y is my favorite vice, I see you I get enticed
Them titties nice, tonight I’ma hit it twice
Coming home on that Bay Bridge
Two AM on them city nights, yeah
(Repeat Chorus)
(Verse 2 – Yo Gotti)
Keep a bag, blow a bag, throw a bag it ain’t nothing
I’m the weatherman, thunderstorm, forecast whole hundred
Don’t want no model girl, I want a baller girl
And you want a baller girl, and I’m right here balling girl
I’mma send you an Uber, and she from Aruba
She know nothing about this thug life, she like what is a shooter?
Took her down in Miami, put that bi**h on a scooter
Took her striaght to the phantom too
I know just how to do her
She said she had a man, but she know how to maneuver
She give me head underwater so I’mma call her my scuba
Doubt, Rolls Royce on deck, travel
Shawtie’s ass so fat, rattle
Told a bi**h I love her, liar
Waitress all out of ones, fired
I got old money I can return with it
Tryna f**k a check up now ain’t tryna die with it
Money bag, money bag
Got a whole bunch of stacks got a whole lotta ass
If for her I just might
(Repeat Chorus)
(Verse 3 – Lil Wayne)
I’m about to order some more money
Just to throw it at her
That money doesn’t matter
I’ll make it back mañana
I hit it like a batter
I make it rat-a-tat-a
I never give her answers, I never give her data
Mama she a dancer, she dance her f**king ass off
She take her f**king pants off, and dance her f**king ass off
She let me feel that ass off
Charge it to my black card
She f**ked me for that iphone she so tired of that android
An outdoor person having orogies in my backyard
I think her ass got steriods, this d**k feel like heroin
Lil Tunechi don’t ease in lord, but I had to expand lord
Charging on these ni**as got them looking for some tan oil
I got all these bands boy, these hoes call me band boy
Weezy F. Band boy stay in pu**y, not the tabloids
And just to think I was the bag boy
Now I got that bag boy, I got coupon alloys
Just order some more cash boy
Just order some more cash boy
(Repeat Chorus)
