Big beard, big box Never thought it turn into a Maybach It's a cold world, we all know the answer Gold on my neck, call me Samson Money, money, money every day that my beard grows Rap prince behind dark tints Americana paisley prints, the cities Clark Kent S on my chest, C on my fitted G's on my denim, John Lennon shades Styrofoam filled with lemonade Surf and turf dinner plate Came from a bitter place, now I'm on rich estates Seven thousand acre escape Jackson wool jacket cape Gold drape off my collar Beard longer than Samson's Hand strutin' with the Delilah Went from broke to a baller Spokes on the Impala, young Sinatra BCG rat pack, Visvim backpack filled with dollars Made money from being honest and these fake niggas hate it That a real nigga made it, off of no favors Now I'm in that farm house, far out, with no neighbors Got more haters than money problems Cause every day my beard grows, the money follows Long beard, don't care, let the money pile up The child of the sun, so I shine like one Intelligent rap nigga, so I rhyme like one Never clung to dumb niggas, I never minded them Always plain Jane'd my wrist, I never diamonded them But I always take risks, that's how my life begun One mother, one sister, without a bite or crumb That's why I write on this paper and give my life to them And stack all this paper like I'm recycling Why I attract all these haters, I'm just a righteous man Maybe cause they MC Lyte, paper thin But I give 'em the Stevie J rap face or the paper grin Won't let these niggas stop my hair growth on my chinny chin Money long like Kevin Durant F you niggas who said I can't Hold up, f you niggas again That's just how I'm feeling man Straight up, I just don't be caring, this cold world we in So I'mma get this paper until the very end