Let's do it New shoes on the range rover, good one man

Mother*** acting like I ain't supposed to shine

I ain't the one, definitely not the two

One in the chamber when we're aiming at you The young Bob Barker, the price is right

If you C.O.D. then you could get them tonight

Put the fish scale on the scale

If Roy went postal, all he do is check mail Low key, under the radar, triple black 'Vet, I call it the stealth

No currency machine, I could count it myself

Almost done, another quarter million in ones

Thunder storm in the body tap, look what I've done

Chump change, I make it rain for fun wussup Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots I get them bars out of the back of my mind

I reminisce like Mary J

Even in the drought, the boy kept that yay

A hundred percent served, snowman's word You can play my thug and my clientele, why

I'm addicted to that new car smell

White cookies in a plastic bag

New shoes on the coupe with the paper tag Whole life flash right before your eyes

See the state troopers and get butterflies

Got a thing for them Heckler and Koches

A minute 14 and Rolex watches Somewhere in the back of my secret deranged brain

I get a rush when I tote that 'cane

Get money, *** *** them haters

All we fear is the discovery and Inditement papers, wussup Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots I'm a grown *** man, I stand on my own two

200,000 cash, I'm buying my own team

Right to your front door, operation so sweet

I like little dude who keeps his money so neat But I still bury a ***

Put The Mask on, Jim Carey a ***

Swede ends in the Chevy, got me feelin' awkward

Careful with the sweets, don't burn my seats You could live your whole life and not come close

Guess that's why these rap *** take notes

Recite my adlibs, borrow my quotes

Make me I hop a ***, serve them with the toast

Next, they be dressing like me

But back in '93, they wasn't stressing like me, wussup Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots

Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5

I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots