Lyrics:

High Class Street Music
I'm on my Memphis shit right now (Hey, hey)
Young Dolph, the summer is yours, young nigga (Hey, ayy)
My nigga DJ Scream (Paper Route Empire)
Classic (Uh-huh)

They ask me what's the difference between me and the rest of these niggas (That's easy)
I ain't shit like the rest of these niggas (Hell nah)
Fuck these niggas, I ain't got no sympathy every time I flex on these niggas (Yup)
If you ain't worth a half a mil' you can't stand next to me nigga
Hold up, hold up, hold up
This that High Class Street Music 4 (High Class Street Music)
I'm reppin' gangster shit (Hood rich)
Ayy, Dolph, hey, ayy, ayy
Paper Route Empire, uh-huh

They ask me what's the difference between me and the rest of these niggas (That's easy)
I ain't shit like the rest of these niggas (Hell nah)
Fuck these niggas, I ain't got no sympathy every time I flex on these niggas (Yup)
If you ain't worth a half a mil' you can't stand next to me nigga
You damn right, yup, I let the streets get the best of me nigga
Got a hundred bands on me and that TEC with me nigga (Ayy)
Ha, uh-huh, yeah that's why I walk like this (Ayy)
Style on these niggas and I talk like this (Ayy)
Ha, got another coupe and went and blowed another 30 on my wrist
Had forty racks on me same day I met 2 Chainz (What's poppin', T?)
Quarter million dollar nigga before I ever met Gucci Mane (Free Gucci)
Nigga better go back and listen to that Welcome To Dolph World (It's Dolph)
Everything I got, bitch I got it on my own
Everybody keep asking what's up with me and Yo Gotti (What?)
Fuck all that, let's talk about that new Porsche I'm riding (Uh-huh)
I'm getting money, they getting money
That's the end of that (The end of that, bruh)
Y'all know how this Memphis shit be
You doing your own thing then they don't wanna see you eat
Damn but you know me, I'm in the streets (Ayy)
Just killed a fifty pack of strong and still killing Squeeky beats (Ooh)
It's 'bout to be a hot summer, lotta money, no sleep (Uh-huh)
Real niggas, what's poppin'? Bad bitches, what's poppin'?
Put your hand down, you ain't bad, bitch stop it (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Hustlers, what's poppin'? Gangsters, what's poppin'? (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Keep one in the chamber, nah I ain't gotta cock it (Hey, hey, hey, hey)
Daddyo, what's poppin'? You know how we rockin' (What up? You know how we rock)
You know we love the streets my nigga but we gotta stop it (For real)
Your mama sick and she need you out here dog (For real, man)
So I'd be damned if I let these streets take you out here dog
Hell nah, you like my big brother (For real)
Your mama like my mama, my mama like your mama (I love, nigga, for real)
You call my daddy pops, we almost died together (That's love)
Plus a lot of shit I can't talk about, American Gangster nigga (Damn)
They thought I was playing when I told them we was trapping out the mansion nigga
Stupid crib in Woodland Hills, I did that a long time ago (Dope boy)

Real niggas, what's poppin'? (Hahaha)
Bad bitches, what's poppin'?
Paper Route, what's poppin'? (Ayy)
Paper Route poppin'
Dolph, High Class Street Music