Workin'

[Intro: Dom Kennedy]

Niggas thought they heard the most playa' shit ever...

Than they heard the Half-A-Mil shit

Know what I'm saying?

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Ayy, ayy, look

No matter what you can't see...

Word!

[Verse 1: Dom Kennedy]

Money falling on the ground

Damn I missed the Ye concert

A stripper dancing on me head pressed

And she smell good too

Shoes ain't Jimmy Choo's

I can tell she high maintenance everybody want a turn

I don't wanna know her name unless she leaving here with me

Hopping in the car alone diamond cross saying bling

I went to Orville Wright middle school

With Rodney and Idris

My momma don't like it when you call me Dominic

Before rap songs I was really doing freaks

I was really getting fresh neck stains on the sheets

How niggas ain't got the Half-A-Mil on repeat?

Number 1 album of the year for the streets

Fuck around and make me go Pope Don Paul

Did more for LA than Kobe and Brian Shaw

Niggas don't invite me to their shows

Cause they hoes might run up on me

75 inch on me getting my back rubbed

No matter what you can't see me

Air any season, balling be the reason

42 hundred dollar bills please believe me

With the credit card monday to the weekend

Throw another dub in the air keep it going

Throw another dub in the air keep it going

Throw another dub in the air keep it going

Ay I see you workin'

[Verse 2: Hit-Boy]

Look

Work work work work work work work

Yeah you know I got that work, uh

Work work work work work work work

Taking no days off, corner pocket A1

Space Age Pimpin', MJG and 8 Ball

Playing on my apple connect

Nothing less than half a mil on the check

Work, work it like a star, play my shit

She know every word by heart

Tell them niggas they was close but no cigar

Graduating ain't a task

And I know the money make you back flip

I'm just tryna live and grow

I feel like Casey, just face it, I'm facing these dutchies

The squad never ducking

Drag my name in publications I'm the one they still can't fuck with

Y'all ride waves for entertainment

My daddy got cases, put up bread to get him out

And I still couldn't get him out

Just got a text from uncle westside

He got bails of the south

In the text he first he got bail from the towers

Bring the cameras out, direct this Half-a-Mil movie

Hit it right before a period and now she acting moody

Y'all must have been fooled

Now the kid ain't slacking braids in the hair, poetic justice

Janet Jackson, grab that Perrier Jouet off the shelf

Now tell me more about yourself

[Interlude: Woman]

[?]

I'm from the Bay

I graduated from [?]

I'm a Mexican blood

I'm fucking with Half-A-Mil

[Outro: Dom Kennedy]

Can't see me

No matter what you can't see me

Can't see me