Wait, uh Uh I want a milli', a milli', a milli', a milli', a milli', I'll figure it out Stacking up weight to the ceiling, the ceiling, the ceiling, the ceiling, like, look at me now Tell me what's your number, bae Might find my way to Heaven's gate Might make these fuckboys levitate The money come from every way I got your man in a blunt I got it with me, it's spiky like punk I'm in your city, drum it holds fifty Glock make 'em dance, like they name Whitney Todos los días Trabajando en mi casa Taxing them packs like gringas ¿Qué carajo dijiste? What? What? She throwing it back with no hands Bitch, I'm on drugs I don't wanna dance These rappers are sick, they fucking their fans Signing their life for a lil' advance I swear this shit funny I cannot fuck with your lil' money How you be stepping out, lookin' so bummy? I put that shit on, it ain't on me I want a milli', a milli', a milli', a milli', a milli', I'll figure it out Stacking up weight to the ceiling, the ceiling, the ceiling, the ceiling, like, look at me now Tell me what's your number, bae Might find my way to Heaven's gate Might make these fuckboys levitate The money come from every way