Got it going on, what, what?
Uh, what, what?
They got it going on, what, what?
Yeah, uh, what, what? 
Im momma, Miss Ivana
Usually rock the Prada, sometimes Gabbana
Youre 9-0, my guns is Valentino
MAC wavin, Queen Bitch engraved in 
And my peeps, it increased then ceased
Then sink slow, flows incredible, video
Peep the little petite, stand about 5 feet 0 inches 
Off springs to clenches 
Me, I suspensions
Quick to bring your body agony like pinches
Yes, yes, what? 
The T.V.s in the Range, half a milli in the game
Nigga, we too dutty for that, bring your ass on back
Matter fact, stay where you at, you might fuck my frow up
Fuck my flow up , hustle til I throw up
No more, high beam slums, and iced out baguettes
Back to Pontiacs and 86 Acs, Cadillacs
The 68s quick to tag plates, im straight
Stay great, the diamonds and pearls
Forever always, the million dollar girl 
Street dreams are made of these
850 IS and GS3s
You travel the world tryna sling a ki
Everybodys looking for something
I got no time for fake niggas 
You drink a little wine, but you shake, nigga
See, my names on your lease with your bank figures
Cause Im much more advanced than them average gold diggers
Yeah, it figures; youre talking bout me, so what about you? 
Man, bitches be lying too
I push the kis, GS3s, the papes 
Yeah, I ride crate state to state, lieutenant takes mad dimes
From New York to Anaheim 
While you daydream and whine
I just keep gettin mine 
And Im, married to this 
Yall strategy lists and still planning weddings 
Mafioso threatens all the bullshit
Any type of threat, ends to pull shit 
Thats why I got mad love for my real bitches
Kisses and hugs, yo, one love to my thug niggas 
Street dreams are made of these
850 IS and GS3s
You travel the world tryna sling a ki
Everybodys looking for something, uh
Right back at ya, you know the one Cleopatra
All up in that ass, digging in your stash
Niggas think they gon get some ass
No money money, no licky-licky 
Fuck your dicky-dicky and your quickie
Gimme your loot, your MAC-11 didnt shoot
Your game aint sweet, John Paul Pete shouldnt compare
If you cant wed it , forget it, dont sweat it 
I bet it, make it come smooth if you let it
You cant stop a bitch from ballin 
Haha, the lala, the drop-off, they be callin
Uh, Cease-A-Leo, uh
Street dreams are made of these
850 IS and GS3s
You travel the world tryna sling a ki
Everybodys looking for something, uh