[Intro: DJ Ill Will]
Once again, DJ Ill Will
You already know what it is
Getting this dope shit right now, featuring Jay Rock
Y'all know you've been waiting on this
Come on
(DJ Ill Will)
[Verse 1: ScHoolboy Q]
Wake up in the morning, got the tool on deck, check (Check)
Before I hit the door, cock it for an exit, joke
Baking soda, olive oil, Arm and Hammer, no tanner
Listen to the rules of the game, nigga I will advance you
Pound this shit like a pamper
Why you hate? Why you fake?
Rims on the saucer plate, hustling across the states
Be careful how you chop your eighth
It's crazy how them rocks will break
Mix your dimes with your shake
That extra shit, they love to taste
Fiends say your shit was great
You see that nigga, pinch his face
Have a seizure by the gate
We call that shit the Harlem Shake
Constantly, we get the cake
Three through eight, we graduate
Graduate, congratulate
Hit them all and buy the place
Keep the chopper by your waist
And savers, yeah, they love to hate
So we must exterminate
Every hater, terminate
Hustlers, yeah, we earn the cake
Jacking like we masturbate
Nigga, I'll blast your face
Duck it when the chopper says (Huh)
[Chorus: ScHoolboy Q]
Getting money off that dope shit, dope shit
Eight to a seven, halfing that whole shit, whole shit
Oh, getting money off that dope shit, dope shit
Eight to a seven, halfing that whole shit, whole shit
Oh, getting money off that dope shit, dope shit
Eight to a seven, halfing that whole shit, whole shit
Oh, getting money off that dope shit, dope shit
Eight to a seven, halfing that whole shit, whole shit
[Verse 2: Jay Rock]
This that dope shit
I'm on that dope shit
That dope shit, everytime I flow spit
My dope shit
Nah, my dope is catastrophic when I rock it up
Fiends steady popping up
Narcs steady watching us
So we got to shut it down
Put the chickens in the coupe and move them to another town
Call up my bottom bitch, my ride-or-die, bottom bitch
Oh yeah, she 'bout it bitch, trafficking a lot of bricks
I'm like T.I., don't have to buy a lot of clips
Bitch ass niggas mad, love to talk a lot of shit
When your money right, here come them haters
The more they hate ya, that's more paper
Mo' paper, bitches catching mo' vapors
Back then we was on 'em, but let them hoes chase us
I see they heart jumping out of they chest
If a trait, then the hollows jumping out of the tech
Then that's case closed, we change clothes on every part
We so smart, getting caught is not our repertoire
I'm still with it, yeah, I'm still with it
Domain in the kitchen, I'll whip you up a meal, chicken
Dope shit
[Chorus: ScHoolboy Q]
Getting money off that dope shit, dope shit
Eight to a seven, halfing that whole shit, whole shit
Oh, getting money off that dope shit, dope shit
Eight to a seven, halfing that whole shit, whole shit
Oh, getting money off that dope shit, dope shit
Eight to a seven, halfing that whole shit, whole shit
Oh, getting money off that dope shit, dope shit
Eight to a seven, halfing that whole shit, whole shit
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