[Verse 1: Yo Gotti] I leave nothing on the table, I'm a greedy a n***a Shout my young bull word to my Philly n***as My new young b**h said she been f**ing ball players You see me 'round some n***as know they all real Club lit, club lit Stevie J bring the record back Kids Ttipping this dope (Trip) Where the f** my banger At Stevie J dropped OOUU OOUU Why the f** he ain't think of that n***as thinkin' we cool, naw n***a ain't none of that Yeah, 50 bars tell him run it back Real n***a in real life, you a real n***a on the internet Real problems, had real issues in the real streets on real crack Fake n***as having fake issues, all you hatin' n***as put a end to that Nothing but k**ers in my session, this sh** d**hrow Bought a Rollie on my extras, left tho I be getting to the money ain't no plan B I be goin' so hard they try to ban me Aye, look your MCM all in my section tryna take a selfie I won't give that p**y back they say I'm acting selfish I made 20 million dollars ain't sh** you can tell me Gave my life to the streets, I hope that sh** don't fail me A million dollar smell like some cologne That b**h ain't bad if she ain't did it on her own Patek Philipe and I can't even set the time Buyin' time but I'm still runnin' late [Pre-Chorus: Yo Gotti] I got all the chains on like a field n***a I'm standing on these couches with my lil' n***as I don't want no rap now, I don't feel n***as This is ain't for no b**hes, this for real n***as [Chorus: Meek Mill & Yo Gotti] Real n***as at the top Fake n***as at the bottom And if you bring them p**y n***as up with you Better leave 'em where you got 'em Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down Real n***as at the top Fake n***as at the bottom And if you bring them p**y n***as up with you Better leave 'em where you got 'em Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down [Verse 2: Meek Mill] Yeah, came through for the payback Pulled up in a Maybach Bought the dawgs [??] wraith back Wrist rocky like A$AP Bought the b**h a li' Birkin bag That's my paper, let her taste that Plain jane, that's thirty cash, all bust down we ain't playin' that n***a we lit, I'm in MIA Thats your b**h, knock her down she in my way (yea yeah) Take a pic, she gon' post it on her page (oh lord) That's your b**h, tell your ho to close her legs (oh boy) Count that paper with my eyes closed Caught me with that b**h and she went viral Threw that p**y at me like a spiral Caught it like Odell Beckham young rich n***a they can't check I'm on one [Extended Pre-Chorus: Yo Gotti & Meek Mill] Aye, we don't want them b**hes they some gold diggers (b**h) We don't do plain jane this sh** for old n***as (bust down, bust down) We bust down that Rollie just to show n***as (ha) We bust down that Rollie, we don't owe n***as (no) I got all the chains on like a field n***a I'm standing on these couches with my lil' n***as I don't want no rap now, I don't feel n***as This is ain't for no b**hes, this for real n***as [Chorus: Meek Mill & Yo Gotti] Real n***as at the top Fake n***as at the bottom And if you bring them p**y n***as up with you Better leave 'em where you got 'em Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down Real n***as at the top Fake n***as at the bottom And if you bring them p**y n***as up with you Better leave 'em where you got 'em Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down Top lookin' down, Top lookin' down