Letras:Gudda Gudda. All I Do Is Win.

(Young Cash - Intro)
Young Cash
Brick Squad!
We started this brick shit nigga!

(Chorus)
All I do is win, win, win, no matter what
Young niggas from the hood and we don't give a fuck
And every time we hop out wit' them choppas
Everybody hands go up, and they stay there
They better stay there, they better stay there
Lay down, lay down, lay down
'Cause all I do is win, win, win
It started in the hood so that's where it begins
Let 'em stay there

(Young Cash)
I got so much swag, I stick out like a shark's fin
You swimmin' in my water, I'm 'bout to let them sharks in
Real niggas in my circle, and I don't let no marks in
I preach to the streets, call me the young Al Sharpton
I know what coke I need, hit the streets with my nig'
I rob ya for ya bricks, I don't give a fuck like F.E.M.A.
Me and Hin off in the Beamer, that 745
Brick Squad right behind, they got seven .45's

(Yo Gotti)
All I do is win, I'm Gotti the brawn G
I'm the M.V.P., I got championship chains
Triple double on these niggas
Ten blocks and twelve steals
Fifteen a six, tell me that I ain't real
Other words that's ten birds, and I jack a nigga for twelve
Get bread wit' my homeboys 'cause I'm a team player
Like the A-Team, nigga this the Yay Team, big work nigga
They should wear it on my flat screen

(Gudda Gudda)
Okay, all I do is win, no need for another option
Fly like the wind, they nicknamed me helipcopter
I don't sip gin, my cup fulla that purple shit
All real niggas 'round me, no Urkel shit
I ain't tryna talk, if it ain't money what's the purpose?
If it don't make dollars and cents, it ain't worth it bitch
Alotta clowns in this rap game on that circus shit
While I proceed to win and shake the game like (?)
It's Gudda

(Chorus)

(Bun B)
We up in Harlem on some rock
Diddy poppin' in my Sean John
Tryna send these young kings home like they Bron Bron
I rep this arm strong, cold, get your long John
Whip game proper, I got that off white (?)
Fourth quarter, fourth down, four seconds on the clock

Mothafuck a huddle nigga, just give me the fuckin' rock
Goin' up the middle, and I don't need a fuckin' block
Touchdown, the South win, bitch get off the fuckin' jock

(Iceberg)
Iceberg nigga!
And if you don't know me you can call me Billion
That 'Maro on them four Gaidos
And I don't got them Asanti's spinnin'
I specialize in packin' dro in grey clutches
And when it come to hoe niggas, I be face thumpin'
And in Dade County we flop niggas with dummy bricks
And quick to cop them real chickens wit' that counterfeit
And if we don't know ya we touch ya
If you buck we bustin'
Then throw it up in the club for the fuck of it
It's 'Berg

(Tity Boi)
Yeah, it's Tity Boi, they call me 2 Chainz
If I die, bury me inside this blue flame
You know what it is, Louis on my shoestrings
I make ya girl get loose for the loose change
Chandelier on my neck, black and white like a panda bear
This is not a 911, this a Panamera
Everybody starin', tryna see what I'm wearin'
From the era, where M.O.B. mean money only better

(Chorus)

(T-Pain)
Okay, Pizzle!
Ehem
Ladies and gentleman, the South is in the fuckin' spot
It ain't no sleepin' on me dawg, I ain't a fuckin' cot
I'm rude to every bitch, hoe is you gon' fuck or not?
Especially white whores, yeah, gargle this fuckin' cock
They say, "Pain why you ain't on the first "All I Do Is Win"?
And I say, "I am stupid, I'm just here to get paid again."
I went and got the Field Mob niggas and made 'em friends
And I Fleetwood Mac and Chevy P you may begin

(Chevy P)
What up dum-dum?
Ya better run um
Comin' wit' my hundred round drum for the trunk punk
Quit runnin', go fast, like the runna done
Put holes through yo' Hilfiger, wit' my Tommy gun
So jack and be nimble, and jack and be quick
Or I'ma light yo' ass up like a candle stick
Like Erv Gotti, I'm ridin' on Asanti's, now that I'm on
Chevy sit so high I can give E.T. a ride home

(Chorus)