Loco wit the Cake - Ace Hood

Spent thirty in the mall

Goin' loco wit the cake

Five cars sitting tall

Goin' loco wit the cake

Ten on some Cali' bud

Goin' loco wit the cake

Then I hit the strip club

Goin' loco wit the cake

Glittered up my wrist

Goin' loco wit the cake

Went and Guccied up my bitch

Goin' loco wit the cake

Repping five with the pimps

Goin' loco wit the cake

I put on my whole team

Goin' loco wit the cake

Aye

You don’t want to start a food fight

Get your attitude right

Before I put this cake all in your face and have your crew like

Who that is?

Ace Hood

You ain’t know that’s Ace Hood?

Ask around in every project they say that boy face good

Put the Range Rover on them 24's I skate good

Especially with the paper ice, all over my Ace Hood

Chain, fuck a dummy I need hoes to educate me

Good brain!

Take the package up the temple come back home and get, paid!

Seven days up out the week a nigga gotta get, paid!

Quit your hating, get on your job, and ho you can get, paid!

Like Ace, like who?

Like me nigga

That’s why every bitch you trying to fuck like me nigga

I work them pots like it’s chemistry

Got a F in chemistry

Took the white and turned it green

Now that’s what I call chemistry

That’s what I call, Enterprise

Call my work, The Enterprise

Twenty junkies beaming up to Scotty in my Enterprise

Smoking in my spaceship, floatin' through the galaxy

They calling me a shooting star, leave hoes off through your calvery

Gangstas, goons, and killers only niggas on my salary

They all got charges pending

Murder, burglaries, and batteries

Niggas trying to battle me, end up finding they tragedy

Laided out on the floor and breathing fast and looking up at me (Up at me)

Play me in your Chevy when you scrambling

Ruthless than a motherfucker with hundred grand on me

Aye

You can call me Mister Cash Flow

Money out the asshole

Thugging getting paper, what you think that Louis bag ho?

Pull up in that stupid whip

Hundred for the stupid wrist

Stupid this, stupid that, loco with the money bag

Lamborghini Murcielag', girl you got to stupid that

Gucci this, Louis that, riding with them paper tags

And my bitch she bad as hell, Juicy, Louis, Gucci bag

All my niggas love to swag, Bentleys, Phantoms back to back

Twenty grand I’ll show you going low and tell them holla back

Pain you a dummy, blow about thirty on a whip and then

Swing on them 30's

I drop the top on them verties

Switch lanes, on them haters, I’m throwing paper to make them spend