Phone Numbers (feat. Trae Tha Truth, Big Sean) [Remix]

I cop me one, cop me one for my old girl You think she my newest b***h, she my old girl Khalifa, a younger nigga who handle his Hoes get in my car, ask what the channel is Boss niggat, look that up my niggat I handle biz On fire, like a candle is Niggas be dressing off the mannequin Hmm, and I get fresh like where them camera's is? Better yet sandwiches, bad mother****ers Spanish friends Could of been the President, rather be the man instead[Chorus - Wiz Khalifa ] Now when I get paid, my checks be looking like phone numbers Now when I get paid, my checks be looking like phone numbers(You can talk shittt shittt, I'm worth a million) I'm talking millions, mother****ers I'm talking millions(You can talk shittt shittt, I'm worth a million) I'm talking millions, mother****ers I'm talking millions Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (Bought a Rolex) Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (Bought a Rolex) I'm talking millions, mother****ers I'm talking millions(You can talk shittt shittt, I'm worth a million) I'm talking millions, mother****ers I'm talking millions(You can talk shittt shittt, I'm worth a million, what?)[Verse 2 - Trae Tha Truth ] I'm in the hood off this something that's corner surfing Float, no water, my trunk is waving, I'm polar surfing Blowing faces, I'm shitting on them diamond infested Time is money, peep the wrist mother****ers, my time is invested I'm still the king and I'm thugged out Any block, any club, I flood it out I ain't the one for competition, I'ma blow it out I'm going hard, I don't ever plan on going out I'm getting money, probably something you don't know about I stunt hard, you would swear that I was showing out Don't tell me get them, I got them and I'ma throw them out And back door on these hoes that I was warning out While I'm in this machine, convert the top Tell them that the sky is the limit With a four of freaks, she got her face in my lap So deep you would think she was hiding in it[Chorus ][Verse 3 - Big Sean ] Shrimp, steak, liquor, and pasta Real shit boy, these p***ies imposters They deserve a Oscar, Kevin CostnerOh my God sir, what? I got this and that and everything I want like I got a hostage, yeah Counting seven digits, no wonder why the money calling Got your b***h panties Niagara falling Dollars come like I **** in the bank I told them I could, they tell me I can'tThey want me to trip when I'm ducking the paint I'm popping champagne, and puffing on dank Running hard, boy, these mother****ers got to see me My d**k hard, your chick is easy[Chorus]