[VERSE I] - Chef Shane

Ayo

Okay, here’s how it played out

I get a call up from my homie Trip

Telling me he going thru it

Brodie whipping to the stakeout

“I’m gone call you back up ina minute”

Sends me codes with some coordinates

Then proceed told me “It’s on dawg

You take that diamond lane and drive straight”

I got too much on my 9-to-5 day dinner plate

Gyrating, I can’t lie, I been up, 6 to 8

Contemplating shit

“We gone raid the clique that tried to stain our shit”

I’m debating this

I call my babies up to tell them

“Daddy gone be late again”

I hate to say that shit, but gotta say that shit

Anyways, I phone them up to hear the bitch that says *your call has been forwarded to-*

What the fuck dawg, they never-not pick up

Tickets ringing in behind me, while I blind-flip duck

Picture me-spacing out, visions coming in and out

Picture me putting my mittens on the burner

Let it fry, fist-up

[PRE-Chorus] - CHEF SHANE

Y’all talk, “Ayo, who that is?”

Ah, dawg, I’m on, what’s happening?

All palms, We want all that cash shit

All palms, We want all that cash shit

[Chorus] - CHEF SHANE & TRIP.E

(Sing it wit me now)

We want all that cash shit!

(All the players smoking loud)

We want all that cash shit!

(Bad bitches in the crowd)

We want all that cash shit!

(Give it to me now)

We want all that cash shit!

[VERSE II] - CHEF SHANE

So I’m throwing my 2020 Turbo in reverse

Then *skrrrrt*

0 to 100 for real, if you see me

Better mention 24 wheels, rims, limbs, whatever

I pull up slow to the location, scope it out

Brodie gave the signal

Middle men begin to sticking blickies out the window

But shit I still just walked in, crescendo

Nothing but a razorsharp gyuto

“If you fuck with me, what you shoot for?”

I proceed raise the roof off dude floor

Water on the stove ringing

Watching bro heat a pan up

While his hands swinging

In the moment, grabbed the same pan

Placed it on his man’s face

Man, you gotta ashtray?

Pass the sachet, Trip.e

Blow it all to dust, just ask Shane

I gotta mission to get mines made

Death my prom date

Cause I’m reaping what I sew

My clothing Shawshank

White coat, either fight broke or let God take

My accolades I'm at at the bank singing-

[PRE-Chorus] - CHEF SHANE

Y’all talk, “Ayo, who that is?”

Ah, dawg, I’m on, what’s happening?

All palms, We want all that cash shit-

[Chorus] - CHEF SHANE & TRIP.E

(Sing it wit me now)

We want all that cash shit!

(All the players smoking loud)

We want all that cash shit!

(Bad bitches in the crowd)

We want all that cash shit!

(Give it to me now)

We want all that cash shit!

[VERSE III] - Trip.e

Told chef Shane it’s time to drop them tickets

I’ve done came a long way from

Cooking in the kitchen with Rick Simpson

Making berry bonds off of Betty Crocker

Brownie mix, pound cake

Thats five hundred, every 30 minutes

Best believe I’ve had to brake a couple eggs

Along the way to get this far, and get this hot?

Yet It’s not enough

3rd degree burns got my palms itching

Plotting heavy on that jackpot

This that ain’t no coming back from this

Ain’t no hit or miss with this shit

One life’n, mask up, type shit

Busting through the spot fully

John Wicking, Quentin Tarantino with it

We gonna need all our chips queso dripped

Any means necessary we gon take what’s ours

It’s that fuck what yo boss say, type shit

This that fuck what they gotta say, type shit

This that fuck what they gotta do, type shit

It’s that fuck what they gonna do, type shit!!

[Chorus] - CHEF SHANE & TRIP.E

(Sing it wit me now)

We want all that cash shit!

(All the players smoking loud)

We want all that cash shit!

(Bad bitches in the crowd)

We want all that cash shit!

(Give it to me now)

We want all that cash shit!