Phone Numbers (Feat. Trae tha truth & Big Sean)

[Verso 1: Wiz Khalifa]

I cop me one, cop me one for my old girl

You think she my newest bitch, she my old girl

Khalifa, a younger nigga who handle his

Hoes get in my car, ask what the channel is

Boss shit, look that up nigga, I handle biz

On fire, like a candle is

Niggas be dressing off the manikin

Hmmm, and I get fresh like where them camera's is

Better yet sandwiches, bad bitch Spanish friends

Coulda been the President, rather be the man instead

[Refrão]

Now when I get paid, my checks be lookin' like phone numbers

Now when I get paid, my checks be lookin' like phone numbers

(You can talk shit bitch, I'm worth a million)

I'm talkin' millions, nigga I'm talkin' millions

(You can talk shit bitch, I'm worth a million)

I'm talkin' millions, nigga I'm talkin' millions

Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (bought a Rolex)

Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (bought a Rolex)

I'm talkin' millions, nigga I'm talkin' millions

(You can talk shit bitch, I'm worth a million)

I'm talkin' millions, nigga I'm talkin' millions

(You can talk shit bitch, I'm worth a million, whaaaaaat)

[Verso 2: Trae Tha Truth]

I'm in the hood [?] on this something corner surfing

Float, no water, my trunk is waving, I'm polar surfing

Blowing faces, I'm shittin' on them diamond infested

Time is money, peep the wrist bitch, my time is invested

I'm still the king and I'm thugged out

Any block any club I flood it out

I ain't the one for competition I'm a blow it out

I'm going hard I don't ever plan on going out

I'm getting money, probably something you don't know about

I stunt hard, you would swear that I was showin' out

Don't tell me get 'em, I got em and I'm a throw 'em out

And back door on these hoes that I was warning out

While I'm in this machine, convert the top

Tell them that the sky is the limit

With a four of freaks, she got her face in my lap so deep you would think

That she was hiding in it

[Refrão]

[Verso 3: Big Sean]

Shrimp, steak, liquor and pasta

Real shit boi, these niggas imposters

They deserve an Oscar, Kevin Costner

Oh my God sir, what?

I got this and that and everything I want like I got a hostage, yeh

Countin' 7 digits, no wonder why the money calling

Got ya bitch panties Niagra fallin'

Dollars cum like I fuck in the bank

I told them I could, they tell me I can't

They want me to trip when I'm d-cking the paint

I'm poppin' champagne and puffin' on dank

Shining hard, boy, these niggas gotta see me

My dick hard, your bitch is easy

(Boi, boi, boi)

[Refrão]