Clipse

"Where you been, you ain't heard, got the word that I'm {*gunshot*}
That I'm so sin-cere"
"Where you been" Pusha, "Where you been" Malice
"Where you been, wh-where you, where you been"
By the time the 5 pull up, every bitch look up
Million records sold nigga still selling cook up
Pusha, you know what the flow like
The hook-up, you know what that snow like
Got seven dwarves on the corner like I'm Snow White
Fuck, I'm married to the game, throw rice
Keep the heater on my waist for them cold nights
Protect my chain, chest lit like it's Lite Brite
A horse is a horse, of course of course
323 of 'em in that Porsche
Get a load of this, lifestyle of the rich
And I don't even race her, I baby that bitch
Oh the mugging, oh so repugnant
I fly 'em in from London, who life redundant?
Not British BroadCast, this is Billionair-e
Boys Club
fuck the rocks, color canary
Cats ain't got a clue as to what real cash is
Each of my neighbors is doctors and actors
They wanna know about the kid who hat backwards
Who backyard look like it's a scene from The Masters
And what I know about a 9-iron
The only iron I know is the 9 I was firin'
Now everywhere I look it's me they admirin'
30 years in age, contemplating retirement
the jewels
the drop
Crib so huge that I call it Camelot
50 carat watch
Or me on the red carpet, cooling with Carrot Top
Trust me young'n, I will show you the meaning
In that Porsche 911, with the engine screaming
50 grand don't even feed my demons
My life like a fairytale, pinch me I'm dreaming