Let's do it      New shoes on the range rover, good one man   Mother*** acting like I ain't supposed to shine   I ain't the one, definitely not the two   One in the chamber when we're aiming at you      The young Bob Barker, the price is right   If you C.O.D. then you could get them tonight   Put the fish scale on the scale   If Roy went postal, all he do is check mail      Low key, under the radar, triple black 'Vet, I call it the stealth   No currency machine, I could count it myself   Almost done, another quarter million in ones   Thunder storm in the body tap, look what I've done   Chump change, I make it rain for fun wussup      Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5   I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots   Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5   I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots      I get them bars out of the back of my mind   I reminisce like Mary J   Even in the drought, the boy kept that yay   A hundred percent served, snowman's word      You can play my thug and my clientele, why   I'm addicted to that new car smell   White cookies in a plastic bag   New shoes on the coupe with the paper tag      Whole life flash right before your eyes   See the state troopers and get butterflies   Got a thing for them Heckler and Koches   A minute 14 and Rolex watches      Somewhere in the back of my secret deranged brain   I get a rush when I tote that 'cane   Get money, *** *** them haters   All we fear is the discovery and Inditement papers, wussup      Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5   I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots   Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5   I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots      I'm a grown *** man, I stand on my own two   200,000 cash, I'm buying my own team   Right to your front door, operation so sweet   I like little dude who keeps his money so neat      But I still bury a ***   Put The Mask on, Jim Carey a ***   Swede ends in the Chevy, got me feelin' awkward   Careful with the sweets, don't burn my seats      You could live your whole life and not come close   Guess that's why these rap *** take notes   Recite my adlibs, borrow my quotes   Make me I hop a ***, serve them with the toast   Next, they be dressing like me   But back in '93, they wasn't stressing like me, wussup      Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5   I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots   Snow man, getcha hands up high, it's ya' boy, Mr. 17.5   I take it back to the block, back to the kitchen, back to the pots