Song Lyrics

Yeah, laced and Macy's, don't have it, a hatred addict
I need faces mad with frowns when I'm around, or I'm wasting fabric
I don't feel greater 'til my plush pieces 'cause you to suck your teeth
So mean-mugging on my clean-thugging mean nothing
Women dream I'm your husband
I'm Alex Pushkin, the black poetry-writing Russian, ice disgusting
I started bling, how could you question my direction
Or my Tom Ford collection? Gangstas two-stepping
You hate me, should thank me, but lately
I burned so much trees, I keep environmentalists angry
I'm a rare dude, I'm a wonder
Your best success is my worst blunder
Y'all livin' trendy on pennies, I cop plenty Fendi
Vivienne Westwood, I'm good
Get the whole Trump Tower top floor for the hood
Dre & Cool, we riding heavy, NY to Miami 'cause

We make the world go round
Now let's toast to the hustlers
We make the world go round
Tell the hustlers, toast to the gangstas
We make the world go round
Tell the gangstas to toast to the ballers
We make the world go round
And tell the ballers pour a glass for all us
We make the world go round

I see the haters on the floor jocking my swag
I'm popping Ralph Lauren tags and pouring champagne inside a polo glass
Model bitches rolling grass, Escobar unfolding cash
Toasting with my entourage, went from robbing armored cars
To all my stars, red carpet to the L'Ermitage
We throwing red dice at the Mirage
I pull that red Lamborghini on twenties out my garage
Set up shop in South Beach like Khaled and Terror Squad
(We The Best!) Big pimping, top down chrome spinning
"Top Gun", Tom Cruise tucked inside my Gucci linen
No, just Romo
You tryna shine, I put the nine on your jersey for promo
Jessica Simpson, that's so-so
Nick want his (baby back), but that's Loso
Tell Hawaii 5-0 to catch me at the Pro Bowl
On the field, diamonds choking the jockey on my Polo
CB, let 'em know though

We make the world go round
Tell the hustlers, toast to the gangsters
We make the world go round
Tell the gangstas to toast to the ballers
We make the world go round
And tell the ballers pour a glass for all us
We make the world go round

We make the world go round
From my town to your town
We on top, no stopping us now
We got Patron, the ballers two stepping
Ladies on the floor and all 'em two stepping
From L.A. to Harlem, two stepping
From L.A. to Harlem, two stepping
So iced out, it's easy to point them haters out

We start with Bellini's and end with Patron shots
H. Lorenzo belt buckle from Chrome Heart
Alife tag popper, it'd be sad not to walk out the store with bags
Worth a hundred cash shopping
Violence only when have to, have to to swell you up
Prefer peach Schnaps, Perrier-Jouet, a vanilla dutch
Mets cap, that's Queens, I'm a vet, bet that
300 carats the average up on the neck, black
Paid the cost, be the boss, Black Caesar floss
Weekends at the Venetian, pull up in that black Porsche
Top down, new fashion
Seeing me is like seeing through the lens of Helmut Newton's camera light, flashing
And I'm laughing, my plaques' from album sales
Y'all is ringtone platinum, but ninety-nine cents adds up
I don't hate 'em, I congratulate 'em
The new young Prince with young Mike Jackson on the same track
What!

Now let's toast to the hustlers
We make the world go round
Tell the hustlers, toast to the gangstas
We make the world go round
Tell the gangstas to toast to the ballers
We make the world go round
And tell the ballers pour a glass for all us
We make the world go round

Nasir Jones, Andre Christopher Lyon, Edward John Montilla, Jayceon Terrell Taylor, Marcello Valenzano