Uh   Call me dracula, cuz all i do is count chips   Ya money mini i aint talkin' bout the mouse trick   These girls runnin' like i jus threw the bouque   They know i'm headed to the top like a toupe   Now all the bums is wonderin' where i beez at   If you aint a barbie, it's none of your freakin beezwax   These lil rappers, i can see 'em out my dash cam   I know they robbed you like oscar up out the trash can   I'm on stage   You can sit in the crowd   I be up in leir jets   Take a left at the cloud (hehe)   I think she needs the heimlich   She da chokin kind   She gets third burns   No smoking sign (yea)   Metaphor, heaven   So they approve Nicki like my credit scores' seven   Mac n' cheese stix, fried chicken, da guts?   And i'm killen these bxtches   Might fxckin it up   CHEA