Finale

[Intro: T-Streets] What it do, nigga This your nigga T-Streets Bang-bang in the building This Young Money First up, my nigga Gudda Gudda Double G, blap, blap [Verse 1: Gudda Gudda] They call me Young Gudda, I'm all about the dough still And anybody in my way: roadkill Everything my hands touch turn to gold Money, knots, and jewels with no records sold, yeah I'm manhandlin' rappers with no effort So imagine what'll happen when I start applyin' pressure Guillotine flow, who ready to get severed, nigga? In or out the booth, you could get leveled, nigga [Interlude: T-Streets] Now we gonna take it to Harlem, Millzy [Verse 2: Jae Millz] L’eggo! Yo, we are Young Money (Yes) Nigga, your camp chocha It's ‘bout to get real ugly—Omarosa YM vultures, it ain't a family doper We done changed the way the game look—Sammy Sosa (Ha!) This is life, this ain't a job The Audemars and Chapard just symbolize I go hard Navy on Navy Camaro, I did it all for the Yankees (L'eggo) Did it all for New York and this love, no need to thank me Millz! [Interlude: T-Streets] Now we gonna take to the West Coast Tyga-Tyga [Verse 3: Tyga] Ugh, fast money, I don't slow dance Young Money, motherfucker, 'til the world end Money overweight, bitch—Roseanne I don't listen to these kids—grown man Skinny nigga, dope though, ugh, Lohan Lindsey, the white Benz, same color Mike skin Make your soul spin when the ping loading Au revoir, goodbye, now applaud [Interlude: T-Streets] Yeah, now it’s child’s play, nigga My lil' G, Lil' Chuckee [Verse 4: Lil Chuckee] Young Money lil' G, battle juice in my blood Jumpin' at the boy, man, you better have your bungee cord Since Wayne took me off the leash, I ain't lose a fight yet Now, come drag your dog out the ring, how you love that? Young with an attitude, watch how you talk to me Keep playin' Freddy, boy, I'll leak on your Elm Street Trouble is what you want, dog, pain is what you don't get It's Young Money to the bone gristle, you dig? [Interlude: T-Streets] Now we got the hottest nigga on the internet Lil' Twist Hefner, what it do? [Verse 5: Lil Twist] Ugh! Young Money, good night And yeah, I'm gon' shine like a ultraviolet light Lil' Twist gonna sell out like it's opening tonight Going for the fist nigga to write You need a telescope sight to try to see me, I'm so far gone Even though I'm going off, kids, I'm so far on I got a house full of chicks like the Playboy home Wrappin' up my lifestyle and I smashed this song, Twizzy [Interlude: T-Streets] Yeah, next up, we got the best rapstress alive, Nicki Minaj [Verse 6: Nicki Minaj] I'm in that cotton-pickin' Bent, put massa on the guts White on white whips, Kunta Kinte on the clutch You at the bottom of the pole—totem Like Lamar Odom, I ball—scrotum Flyer than a cricket so they call me "Nicki Jiminy" And it's going down like Santa in the chim-i-ney You don't ball, break your baby-back ribs You need more assist than the handicapped kids Oh, shit [Interlude: T-Streets] And now, the beautiful Miss Shanell [Verse 7: Shanell] Young Money, we’re rockstars So fuck with your Magnum on And hold on, we go long You feel that, we get that We in that, we run that We bust back We hit them and we see them comin' back for more Back for more [Interlude: T-Streets] Next up, my nigga Mack Maine Stupid Mack-nupid, one hundred [Verse 8: Mack Maine] Microwave family in the building, you can't hold us Me, Tez, and Wayne, we the three new moguls Buffet around here, y'all boys scrape the plates And we don't eat up in our whips, but they got paper plates Soon as we leave the club, damn, there the models go One word I forgot to say on his album: "Hollygrove!" This track is the finale, nah, this the genesis Young Money murderers, we killin' shit, forever [Interlude: T-Streets] Toronto Drizzy Get ‘em [Verse 9: Drake] Alright, I got this, you can never get this I built it up from nothing, you would think I'm playin' Tetris Thousand-dollar sweater on, but I don’t never sweat shit Swear the beats they give me got a motherfuckin’ death wish Yeah, tell me, who controls kings? I don't follow rules, stupid old things I'm flyin' through the city in a coupe with those wings And my team deserves some motherfuckin' Super Bowl rings Young Money [Interlude: Crowd] Wee-zy! Wee-zy! Wee-zy! Wee-zy! [Verse 10: Lil Wayne] I'm so in this bitch, CEO in this bitch Lil Weezy stand tall, tippy-toe in this bitch Blood Gang, motherfucker, da-da-doe in this bitch Make your girl get Barry Mani-low in this bitch In the body of the world, money is the blood And every day, I be back and forward to the blood bank Ugh, makin' deposits 'til I fucking faint New Orleans, nigga: How 'bout them fucking Saints? It's tight on our end, call that "Bubba Franks" Matter-fact, it's too tight—add a couple links I'm the bar’s tender, you a woman drink Yeah, it's Young Money, but the money ain't Gudda tough, 'Nelly nice, Nick' nasty Streets bad, Tyga ill, Drake magic Millz Harlem, Chuck wild, Twist Dallas And Mack Maine rap, sing and manage, ugh! [Outro: Lil Wayne] It's Young Mula, baby!