[Part I: Pound Cake]

[Intro: Jimmy Smith]

Good God Almighty—like back in the old days

You know, years ago they had the A&R men to tell you what to play, how to play it and you know, whether it's disco and rock

But, uh, we just went in the studio and we did it

We had the champagne in the studio, of course

You know, compliments of the company

And we just laid back and did it

So we hope you enjoy listening to this album half as much as we enjoyed playing it for you

Because we had a ball

Only real music is gonna last

All that other bullshit is here today and gone tomorrow

[Chorus: Timbaland]

Cash rules everything around me, frikki-frikki-frik

C.R.E.A.M.; get the-get the-get the-get the

Get the-get the-get the-get the money, dollar-dollar

D-d-d-d-dollar-dollar, dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all)

Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M

Get the-get the-get the-get the-get the

Get the-get the-get the-get the mon-mon-money

Frikki-frikki-frikki, dollar-dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all)

[Verse 1: Drake]

Yeah

Uh, after hours at Il Mulino

Or Sotto Sotto, just talkin' women and vino

The contract like '91 Dan Marino

I swear this guy Michael Rapino's boosting my ego

Overly focused, it's far from the time to rest now

Debates growin' 'bout who they think is the best now

Took a while, got the jokers out of the deck now

I'm holdin' all the cards and niggas wanna play chess now

I hear you talking, say it twice so I know you meant it

Fuck it, I don't even tint it, they should know who's in it

I'm authentic, real name, no gimmicks

No game, no scrimmage, I ain't playin' with you niggas at all

My classmates, they went on to be chartered accountants

Or work with their parents

But thinkin' back on how they treated me

My high school reunion might be worth an appearance

Make everybody have to go through security clearance

Tables turn, bridges burn, you live and learn

With the ink I could murder, word to my nigga Irv

Yeah, I swear shit just started clickin', dog

You know it's real when you are who you think you are

[Chorus: Timbaland]

Cash rules everything around me, frikki-frikki-frik

C.R.E.A.M.; get the-get the-get the-get the

Get the-get the-get the-get the money, dollar-dollar

D-d-d-d-dollar-dollar, dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all)

Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M

Get the-get the-get the-get the-get the

Get the-get the-get the-get the mon-mon-money

Frikki-frikki-frikki, dollar-dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all)

[Verse 2: JAY-Z]

Uh, I had Benzes 'fore you had braces

The all-black Maybach, but I'm not a racist

Inside's whiter than Katy Perry's face is

Yellow diamonds in my Jesús

I just might learn to speak Mandarin

Japanese for the yen that I'm handlin'

International Hov, that's my handle

My saint's Changó, light a candle

El Gran Santo on the mantle

Case y'all didn't know, I speak Spanish too, uh

Shout out to World Wide Wes

Everywhere we go, we leave a worldwide mess

Yes, still Roc La Familia

Says a lot about you if you not feeling us

The homie said, "Hov, it ain't many of us"

I told 'em, "Less is more, nigga, it's plenty of us"

[Chorus: Timbaland]

Cash rules everything around me, frikki-frikki-frik

C.R.E.A.M.; get the-get the-get the-get the

Get the-get the-get the-get the money, dollar-dollar

D-d-d-d-dollar-dollar, dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all)

[Verse 3: JAY-Z]

Cake, cake-cake, cake-cake, cake

Five hundred million, I got a pound cake

Niggas is frontin', that's upside-down cake

Get 'em a red nose, they clown cakes

They shoulda never let you 'round cake

Look at my neck, I got a karat cake, uh

Now here's the icin' on the cake

Cake, cake-cake, cake-cake, uh

I'm just gettin' started, oh yeah, we got it, bitch

I've done made more millionaires than the lotto did

Dame made millions, Biggs made millions

Ye made millions, Just made millions

Lyor made millions, Cam made millions

Beans'a tell you if he wasn't in his feelings

Uh, I'm back in my bag

My eyes bloodshot, but my jet don't lag

A pair of Jordan 3's, tryna chase this cash

Gucci airbag just in case we crash

Uh, last night was mad trill

I'm fresh out of Advil—Jesus, grab the wheel

[Part II: Paris Morton Music 2]

[Verse: Drake]

Yeah, uh

Look, fuck all that "Happy to be here" shit that y'all want me on

I'm the big homie, they still be tryna lil bro me, dog

Like I should fall in line

Like I should alert niggas when I'm 'bout to drop somethin' crazy

And not say I'm the greatest of my generation

Like I should be dressing different

Like I should be less aggressive and pessimistic

Like I should be way more nervous and less dismissive

Like I should be on my best behavior and not talk my shit

And do it major like the niggas who paved the way for us

Like I didn't study the game to the letter

And understand that I'm not doin' it the same

Man, I'm doing it better

Like I didn't make that clearer this year

Like I should feel, I don't know, guilty for saying that

They should put a couple more mirrors in here so I can stare at myself

These are usually just some thoughts that I would share with myself

But I thought "Fuck it", it's worth it to share 'em

With someone else other than Paris for once

I text her from time to time, she a mom now

I guess sometimes life forces us to calm down

I told her she could live with me if she need to, I got a compound

But I think she's straight

'Cause she supported since Hot Beats

Right before Wayne came and got me out of the back room

Where I was rapping with Jas over beats that I shouldn't have

In the hopes for the glory

He walked right past in the hallway

Three months later, I'm his artist

He probably wouldn't remember that story

But that shit stick with me always

Couldn't believe when he called me

You never know what could happen to you

And I just spent four Ferraris all on a brand new Bugatti

And did that shit 'cause it's somethin' to do

Yeah, I guess that's just who I became, dawg

Nothing was the same, dawg