Lyrics:

[Intro: Westside Gunn]
Ay yo...
Make sure the money machine still work...

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]
Ay yo, remember nights in that cell
My cellie prayin' for the crack, lord
If the tape bust, I knock a stack off
Remix, now I made it twenty, clips so long it look fake
Shot your shit up with one pull-y
Viktor & Rolf over the vest, bitches think I’m lifting weights
Run a nigga jewels at the VMA’s
Trying to make everyday a payday
I came home, judge sent him right back for a decade
PRPS distressed, BAPE Reeboks
Floss lied to death, I ain't trying to get what he got
Slaughtering cocaine under water snorkeling
My reflexes put the fork in it to fortune it
Fortune 500 niggas run it
Drag 'em from the Ghost like it’s nothing
Never been shot but I've seen niggas get their shit lit up
I’m like Rich Paul, but richer

[Chorus: Westside Gunn (Planet Asia)]
Spit nice crying over triple beams...
(Ch-cha Chain, Ch-cha...)
Spit nice crying over triple beams...
(Let's count this mothafucking nigga...)
Spit nice crying over triple beams...
(The fuck I'm talking about guns... Word up, yo...)

[Verse 2: Planet Asia]
Pyrex whipping pushing kicks contraband handling
We been hand to handin' since the hieroglyphs
Walkie talkie recievers, watching all the narcs cops
In the scope of my binoculars, we just trying to re-up
Black cell jackets we the boat niggas
La vida loc livin capo we're the coke dealers
This is business nothing personal, nothing emo
Ambitions of niggas transitions to a kilo
First chapter, we were sending for them C-notes
Incognito moving D-dope
Crash dummies turn into torpedos
Tech 9’s lick off sounding like a song from the Migos
Yank bitches, slot machines in Reno, the fish fry was Filipino
In the kitchen leaning, triple beamin latinos
A hundred band jooking out the jex flexing
Sixteen hundred off every zip effortless

[Chorus: Westside Gunn]
Spit nice crying over triple beams...
Spit nice crying over triple beams...
Spit nice crying over triple beams...