(Verse 1 – Yo Gotti)
I leave nothing on the table, I’m a greedy a ni**a
Shout my young bull word to my Philly ni**as
My new young bi**h said she been f**king ball players
You see me round some ni**as know they all real
Club lit, club lit
Stevie J bring the record back
Kids Ttipping this dope, Trip
Where the f**k my banger At
Stevie J dropped OOUU OOUU
Why the f**k he ain’t think of that
Ni**as thinking we cool, naw ni**a ain’t none of that
Yeah, 50 bars tell him run it back
Real ni**a in real life, you a real ni**a on the internet
Real problems, had real issues in the real streets on real crack
Fake ni**as having fake issues, all you hating ni**as put a end to that
Nothing but killers in my session, this s**t Deathrow
Bought a Rollie on my extras, left tho
I be getting to the money ain’t no plan B
I be going so hard they try to ban me
Aye, look your MCM all in my section tryna take a selfie
I won’t give that pu**y back they say I’m acting selfish
I made 20 million dollars ain’t s**t you can tell me
Gave my life to the streets, I hope that s**t don’t fail me
A million dollar smell like some cologne
That bi**h ain’t bad if she ain’t did it on her own
Patek Philipe and I can’t even set the time
Buying time but I’m still running late
(Pre Chorus – Yo Gotti)
I got all the chains on like a field ni**a
I’m standing on these couches with my lil ni**as
I don’t want no rap now, I don’t feel ni**as
This is ain’t for no bi**hes, this for real ni**as
(Chorus – Meek Mill & Yo Gotti)
Real ni**as at the top
Fake ni**as at the bottom
And if you bring them pu**y ni**as up with you
Better leave em where you got em
Top looking down, Top looking down
Top looking down, Top looking down
Real ni**as at the top
Fake ni**as at the bottom
And if you bring them pu**y ni**as up with you
Better leave em where you got em
Top looking down, Top looking down
Top looking down, Top looking down
(Verse 2 – Meek Mill)
Yeah, came through for the payback
Pulled up in a Maybach
Bought the dawgs….wraith back
Wrist rocky like A$AP
Bought the b*tch a li Birking bag
That’s my paper, let her taste that
Plain jane, that’s thirty cash, all bust down we ain’t playing that
Ni**a we lit, I’m in MIA
Thats your bi**h, knock her down she in my way, yea yeah
Take a pic, she gon post it on her page, oh lord
That’s your bi**h, tell your ho to close her legs, oh boy
Count that paper with my eyes closed
Caught me with that bi**h and she went viral
Threw that pu**y at me like a spiral
Caught it like Odell Beckham young rich ni**a they can’t check I’m on one
(Extended Pre Chorus – Yo Gotti & Meek Mill)
Aye, we don’t want them bi**hes they some gold diggers bi**h
We don’t do plain jane this s**t for old ni**as bust down, bust down
We bust down that Rollie just to show ni**as, ha
We bust down that Rollie, we don’t owe ni**as, no
I got all the chains on like a field ni**a
I’m standing on these couches with my lil ni**as
I don’t want no rap now, I don’t feel ni**as
This is ain’t for no bi**hes, this for real ni**as
(Chorus – Meek Mill & Yo Gotti)
Real ni**as at the top
Fake ni**as at the bottom
And if you bring them pu**y ni**as up with you
Better leave em where you got em
Top looking down, Top looking down
Top looking down, Top looking down
Real ni**as at the top
Fake ni**as at the bottom
And if you bring them pu**y ni**as up with you
Better leave em where you got em
Top looking down, Top looking down
Top looking down, Top looking down
