Hundred racks on your mind Got the homies moving weight Hundred racks on your mind, got the homies pushing weight You been working nine to five, they been working five to eight Y'all been steady on the grind, got the link into the states And you think that it gon' help you be a rapper Dog you fucking crazy Dog you fucking crazy Girl you fucking crazy Dog you fucking crazy Girl you fucking crazy Who got that money, we want it I'm riding with all of my colleagues and comrades I'm turned up, I'm sober, just kidding I'm faded and all these good girls have been bad bitches lately If y'all don't know my name y'all might be fucking retarded To see y'all sipping shit that you can get over the counter Heard y'all keep your shit on the low in an empty apartment 'Bout to rob that shit and then take a few people shopping We used to go hard in prairies with it, got like 80 large in the Honda Civics Take it to the spot and run it through a business The money come out cleaner than some fucking dishes Don't talk big bank in a small town Don't talk 'bout food when the sharks 'round Only talk to a bitch if she doesn't listen Who got that money, and it always listen Who got that money, we want it, I'm riding We're riding, we're riding with all of my homies Who got that money, we faded, faded, faded We'll roll on like all of your homies Who got them straps, who gon' pull it? Who got them dodging their bullets? Who smiling crooked? Who got the molly hidden in their fitted? Who works the streets and who really gets it? Hundred racks on your mind, got the homies pushing weight You been working nine to five, they been working five to eight Y'all been steady on the grind, got the link into the states And you think that it gon' help you be a rapper Dog you fucking crazy Dog you fucking crazy Girl you fucking crazy Dog you fucking crazy Girl you fucking crazy We're all about pussy and paper Acid washed denim and Swishers, grape flavor I'm too high, I'm tripping I'm leaning, I'm sipping I'm sober, just kidding I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up Y'all don't wanna fuck with me Y'all don't wanna know my plan Y'all don't wanna hold my hand Y'all don't wanna be my friend Y'all ain't gonna need your friends Y'all ain't gonna need some bands when we come through 25 deep in the cut like Who got that money, we want it, we want it I used to go hard with my country cats Rolling in a pickup with a hundred racks Take it to the strippers we weren't ever greeting We double up the cake and then we give it back Don't talk 'bout shit if you don't got it I keep it real with songs about bitches and parties Don't talk 'bout shit if you don't got it Who got that money, we want it, we want it Who got that money, we want it I'm riding, we're riding, we're riding with all of homies Who got that money, we faded, faded, faded We'll roll on like all of your homies Who got them straps, who gon' pull it? Who got them dodging their bullets? Who smiling crooked? Who got the molly hidden in their fitted? Who works the streets and who really gets it? Hundred racks on your mind, got the homies pushing weight You been working nine to five, they been working five to eight Y'all been steady on the grind, got the link into the states And you think that it gon' help you be a rapper Dog you fucking crazy Dog you fucking crazy Girl you fucking crazy Dog you fucking crazy Girl you fucking crazy