I just left the New United States, embassy

Somewhere in Georgia, it's 109 rooms

I saw 30 bitches and 30 rooms and I was on the wrong side of the house Anytime me and Scott Storch get together you gotta call us the Illuminati

Whenever you see the G it represents God and geometry

That's what the stencil for

I'mma tell you be with them

Nah, I'm just fuckin' with you

Aye, Scott, I'm just fuckin' with you, baby

Yo Speeding in the Ghost on the phone with jewlers

My new bitch out of D.C., call me Ricky the Ruler

Gotta gather my concentration while counting my stacks

I got eight car notes and just lost me a pack

On the beach, I'm up and down, women jocking my ride

300 horses in this bitch, need a jockey inside

False floors for firearms is how you should ride

Tried to murder me while in mine so that's how I survived

My new deal with Def Jam just set me for life

Want to chapel the BM, man, I'm just rolling the dice

Big numbers, I'm John Wall, I'm balling tonight

Just joking, my sense of humor is like one of a kind

Got them gangstas who on my line that'll blow out your mind

Got them gangstas who on my line that'll blow out your mind

Got them gangstas who on my line that'll blow out your mind

Got them gangstas who on my line that'll blow out your mind Tell me it's real

Tell me this is real, baby

How does it feel?

How does it feel? Vici Liberace, I'm rich as a bitch

Charm city boys get a whole city of brick

Through the wire we wetting niggas, set the *** on fire

My bitch smiling I wanna bet, now we on Fisher Isle

Panamera with Tony Dribble, BK's full of paper

Made a killing on Martin Luther James every shooter

My niggas, we grew apart, they joined the rival gang

Caught them slipping, gave them a pass throwing pistols at surviving gang

Next time boss gotta turn his back on 'em

Letting young boys bratt on 'em

Facts, never find me with the fake look

Trapping little Davis, bitch, just take me to the cakebook

Black bottles, boy, that's how our case of ace look

Your chick, homie, hit homie on the Facebook

Damn, she hit homie on the motherfucking Facebook Tell me it's real, I wanna know

How does it feel, yeah, how does it feel? Clean Maybach, but it's filthy as ***

They partitioning for the women, how busy we get

From the scotch, the large mop, bet the linking feel

It's all a dream and never wake me up until it's real

Duffle bags, that's for the homie when he coming home

He never told and he never used the telephone

He on swole and that nigga need a telephone

In a Range Rover and a real nigga got it for him You wanna know how does it feel

I know, I bet it feel so real

Tell me it's real, I wanna know

How does it feel, to be supreme You know when hanging with billion dollar niggas

One of the perks is getting to meet all these billion dollar bitches

I just met a bitch who never gets jetlag

And spent 10 thousand dollars on not her best bag

You underdig that