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    [Intro: Young Jeezy]
    Say, Rih-Rih, let's take this shit to the street one-time
    You know?
    Throwin' hundreds like loose change, still got my money
    Got your broad in that Mulsanne, that Bentley homie
    Seats whiter than cocaine, that .40 on me
    Got me and Chi-Chi, bring broads, mane
    She like my homie

    [Verse 1: Young Jeezy]
    I'm King Tut with my gold chain
    My partner with me, he the dope mane
    Straight gas nigga, that BP
    On that E40, that OG
    These bitch niggas be actin' up
    These hoes niggas be actin' foul
    They'll grind with you, they'll shine with you
    Be pointin' fingers off at your trial
    My Rolls Royce with my driver in it
    Gettin' fucked up 'cause I ain't got to drive
    That Kendrick on them bottles
    Came, poured a swimming pool, now we 'bout to dive
    Got one room, got three bitches
    Nigga damn right that's where they're supposed to be
    Two Glock .40s at all time
    Gone shoot back a nigga shooting me, you know it

    [Hook: Rihanna]
    Oh ohh ohhh
    Ohhh oh oh oh
    All I see is signs
    All I see is dolla' signs
    Oh ohh ohhh
    Ohhh oh oh oh
    Money on my mind
    Money money on my mind
    Throw it throw it up
    Watch it fall out from the sky
    Throw it up throw it up
    Watch it all fall out
    Pour it up pour it up
    That's how we ball out
    Throw it up throw it up
    Watch it all fall out
    Pour it up pour it up
    That's how we ball out
    That's how we ball out
    That's how we ball out
    That's how we ball out

    [Interlude: Rick Ross]
    It's the biggest nigga in the game
    Sexy bitches world wide, wassap?
    Fuck with me huh?

    [Verse 2: Rick Ross]
    My foreign cars, domestic beefs
    Peter Luger's, the better seats
    Dollar after dollar, bottle after bottle
    Late for you haters even though my plane charter
    Suede Bally shoes, true rude boy
    Ferrari 400 horses, we do it for cool points (HAHA)
    Baby, do the math, I'm coppin' Chanel bags
    Talkin' Bal Harbour, cigars by Hermes
    Know we ran the streets, eatin' cold bully beef
    Now we at the Grammys, Tom Ford to my feet
    Boss on the avi, Rihanna screensaver
    Whenever you see fact boy
    I know it mean paper

    [Verse 3: Juicy J]
    Juicy J pourin' up codeine, Benz all white, no chlorine
    Bad chick with me got ass and titties
    Freaky bitch gon' fuck the whole team
    Ziplock bag full of OG, I go in like a door key
    Your girlfriend down on both knees
    She catch more balls than a goalie
    Purple all in my sprite, I'm high as Denzel on Flight
    Scared money don't make no money
    You niggas shaky like dice
    I'm in the bed with your wife
    We poppin' pills, we goin' hard
    When she with you she a church girl
    When she with me she a pornstar
    Smokin' on doobies like cigarettes
    Which one these strippers give head the best?
    Pussy so good that I think I'm in love
    What am I saying? It must be the drugs (drugs, drugs)
    Pour it up, pop that ass, I make it rain ho
    I'll make it flood, shorty, you might need a raincoat

    [Verse 4: Rihanna]
    Strip clubs and dolla' bills
    Still got mo' money
    Patron shots can I get a refill
    Still got mo' money
    Strippers going up and down that pole
    Still got mo' money
    4'o clock and we ain't going home
    Still got mo' money
    Money make the world go round
    Still got mo' money
    Bands make you girl go down
    Still got mo' money
    Lot more where that came from
    Still got mo' money
    The look in your eyes
    I know you want some
    Still got mo' money

    [Bridge: Rihanna]
    Pour it up, pour it up
    That's how we ball out, that's how we ball out
    That's how we ball out, that's how we ball out
    Still got mo' money, still got mo' money
    Still got mo' money, still got mo' money

    [Verse 5: T.I.]
    I catch a case and I go to jail
    I came home and went back, oh well
    I'm multiplying everything I spend
    These trap niggas I represent
    It's Hustle Gang and we poppin'
    Got big bank rolls in our pockets
    Hoppin' out a foreign vehicle
    Throwin' forty Gs, ain't no issue, bitch, bitch!
    I'm thorough as it get, official, bitch, bitch!
    Better watch your pussy poppin'
    I might wanna come and get you, bitch
    Now everywhere you may see me
    Surrounded by bad bitches like Rih-Rih
    Got them booty shots, look like Nicki
    Face and toes pretty, I'm picky
    See these trap niggas, they honor me
    And these rap niggas up under me
    Ain't nothin' for me to get a hundred keys
    And then stimulate the economy, like?

    [Hook: Rihanna]
    Oh ohh ohhh
    Ohhh oh oh oh
    All I see is signs
    All I see is dolla' signs
    Oh ohh ohhh
    Ohhh oh oh oh
    Money on my mind
    Money money on my mind
    Throw it up throw it up
    Watch it fall out from the sky
    Throw it up throw it up
    Watch it all fall out
    Pour it up pour it up
    That's how we ball out
    Throw it up throw it up
    Watch it all fall out
    Pour it up pour it up
    That's how we ball out
    That's how we ball out
    That's how we ball out
    That's how we ball out

    Letra enviada por Noah.
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