I do it for the thugs and the motherfuckin' gays I do it for the strippers and the bitches put their heads up I do it for the haters that don't never put their heads up I do it for the hustlers and this bitch throwin' their grands up somebody else can do it come like fresh outfit, blunt stay lit, and a nigga out in prime with a lil bump, ass shitty. G, I'll give you a classic, it might take you. Cash flow for the hoes, I about trace em. You on a ride, you can't be acting like Trey Punk in a W8, I bet your ex plays you. Hollywood, Hollywood, I see the big light, and I'm with my big homie Ricky, nigga get right. Every minute that my heart pump blood, fuck what you heard, mama raised a fucking thug. Money on my mind, imagine what's up in the trunk, it'll get me to the life that fuck driving slow as fuck. On the road to riches, feeling like a billionaire, I got a couple mil, a couple more, I'm really there. Haters talk about me, fuck em like I really care, when we handled all our business, sorry they were never there. I do it for the thugs and the motherfucking gangsters. I do it for the strippers and the bitches put their hands up. I do it for the haters that don't ever put their hands up. I do it for the hustlers and this bitch throwing their grands up. Keep money nigga, keep money nigga, keep money nigga, keep money nigga. Money ain't a thing, I remain blinged up. Hunting on a chain, bitch I think I'm King Tut. A nigga young and rich and feel like can't be touched. Stacks for the shades, no I can't see much. Unless it be the dollar, still talking cash flow. Thousand dollar bill, President Fidel Castro. Nigga with a attitude, 50 in the Mac-10. Raw school as Ice Cube, Dickie in the black Benz. I'm in the hell and choppa staring at the boat dock. Good weather, good weather means more flock. Look in my eyes, you can tell I'm seeing so clear. I get them bitches in prison and feeling no fear. More money means more Louis carry on. When I touch a city, you should see I hold carry on. Bitch, what's my name? Ace fucking hood ain't a damn fine chain joke. I do it for the thugs and the motherfucking gangs. I do it for the strippers and the bitches put their hands up. I do it for the haters and the money on their side. I do it for the hustlers and this bitch throwing their grands up. Keep money nigga, keep money nigga, keep money nigga, keep money nigga, keep money nigga. And I'm a getting money ass nigga. Fast with it, duffel bags with the cash in it. White squares, that's equivalent to Mojo. I hear my nigga Ricky selling on my promo. I make it rain, hoe, better wear your poncho. Just hit me on my TMO, I get your most know. The good life, big side in my condo. You know the name, X your mane, I'm cutthroat. You talking funny, but you fucking with the franchise. I decide how much of your phony shit we let ride. I gave you niggas your first stardom. Showed you how to dress, made the hood be a part of. Maybe I should have kept my guard up. It's all good, need a hit, hit the guard up. Now you shit looking garbage. You's a rat, never built for this mob shit. I do it for the thugs and the motherfucking gangsters. I do it for the strippers and the bitches put their hands up. I do it for the haters and the money on their side. I do it for the hustlers and this bitch throwing their grands up. Ace Hood. Ricky Rose. Worldwide. I never get tired of counting money, baby. We'll never stop hustling, never stop grinding. Keeping them 223's, nigga, with the blue tips, you feel me? We suck a freak. To the casket for Ace Hood.