LastO Verse One:
I got you...I got you... a tad more than shopping bags from H&M | you call me Papi, Last'll pay for them | swipe swipe | it ain't tricking if you got it | no it ain't tricking if you grown and then you picks a good one, not these ole pick-a-pocket bitches good for suckin dick and then you gots to drop them | I could take you home to momma, send you to parlors for massages let 'em rub up on ya with Jojoba | bought you iPods and fuckin gadgets, you put Rih-Rih on there | you know I ain't no hater but it better be some me on there | love you like a plate of cooked food, x and o | I bought you these and then you slide 'em off, you can't have sex in those | ya Papi is popular, you can run and tell your friends exactly what I bought for ya | go on show it off for them

HOOK:
My papi bought me that
You see my jewels blang
My papi bought me that
Filled up my fuel tank
My papi bought me that
Went in his pocket for me | right in his pocket and he spending out his wallet on me

My papi bought me that
Bought me some new thangs
My papi bought me that
Said it was loose change
My papi bought me that
Went in his pocket for me | right in his pocket and he spending out his wallet on me

LastO Verse Two:
So money make the world spin around this bitch like bicycle spokes | that's what nine-to-fives is for, and writing lines that rhyme is for | you my dime, not dime-a-dozen, diamond that I find in the rough, go in the store and I buy it up, I like to see you smile and stuff | wake up to the smell of Folgers, see you suckin and swallowing up | mm mm good like Campbell's soup, scrambled eggs and ham will do | breakfast that you fixing up, looking good enough to eat, pick up plates and lick them up like a bowl of grits and stuff | they can eat a bowl of dicks and stuff, they shaking salt on us | a-ssault and battery, wanna break us up like bones and stuff | cause you got the phone they want, stones they want, plus the man they want to hold you down spending all his 0s on what... show them what

Milan Zanotti:
I'm breaking pockets while he breaking the bread | my papi give me what I want, he say 'throw it in the bag' | he cut them checks, shopping sprees, look what he bought for me | custom fitted from Jacob (cha-ching!) even Tiffany's | fast cars, black cards, no limit when we spending | pass ya'll in Lamborghini's looking pretty when I'm sitting | five speed, stick shift, body tight, abs ripping | when we hit the five star, he pull it out -- then I'm lick in | uh oh, I think I want the other Louis bag | Giuseppe heels and Prada shades that them bitches ain't have | I'm bougie, cute and trendy -- why these bitches look mad? | because my papi bought me everything they wish they could have (ha ha)