"CHARGE DEM HOES A FEE," a powerhouse collab between Future, Playboi Carti, and Travis Scott, is a relentless anthem of pimping, profit, and power. With no specific release date provided but assumed to align with Cartiâs 2025 vibe like "POP OUT," this track is a trap-fueled flex-festâWheezy and 808 Mafiaâs production stamps it with a gritty pulse, while the trioâs verses stack wealth, violence, and dominance into a sonic skyscraper. Itâs less a song and more a manifesto: everythingâs for sale, and theyâre setting the price.
Future kicks it off with a wide-body Lambo flex in the introââWide body on the Lambo kitââsetting a tone of oversized excess. Verse 1 dives in: âFeel like fuckinâ these rackies off / Your ho fuckinâ a rapper / Your ho been fuckinâ a trapper.â Heâs itching to burn through cash (rackies), while calling out a girlâs historyârappers and trappers (drug dealers) as her rĂ©sumĂ©. âI donât get into the chatter, huh / Pimpinâ ainât dead, they cappinââ dismisses gossip and defends his gameâpimpingâs alive, haters are lying. âShe worship a nigga, Iâm havinâ itâ flips her devotion into his victory.
The flex escalates: âToo many hundreds, canât fit in the room / Blue room, he gone off balloon.â Cash overflows, and someoneâs high on lean or pills (balloon as slang for a baggie), painting a hazy, lavish scene. âWent past the trenches and went to the moonâ traces his riseâstreet roots to cosmic wealthâwhile âGivenchy, Givenchy from 2002â nods to vintage drip, a timeless flex. âPretty lilâ model run straight through the crew / Jumpinâ in Prada, bitch tyinâ my shoeâ flaunts a model tearing through his squad, Prada-clad and submissive. âTake off her mink on the Patek, she goated / That throat is a GOAT, you know how it goâ ties her skills (GOAT-level throat) to a Patek Philippe watchâluxury meets lust. Futureâs pimping with a tycoonâs swagger, charging fees for the privilege.
Futureâs chorusââCharge them hoes a feeââis the trackâs rallying cry, a blunt, repetitive hook that turns relationships into revenue. The âwoahâ ad-libs and Cartiâs later âcharge, chargeâ echo like a cash registerâevery âhoâ pays up. The second chorus adds absurdity: âThumb through dog shit, yeah, thumb through dog shit / Thumb through chicken shit, yeah, thumb through cow shit.â Itâs a surreal flexâcounting money so dirty itâs literal shitâpushing the transactional vibe to a gritty extreme. âPoppinâ mad shitâ caps it with reckless bravadoâpills or boasts, theyâre cashing out loud. Itâs a creed: nothingâs free, not even loyalty.
Carti storms in with menace: âDrivinâ through the city, lookinâ for a what? / Iâll put his head in the bag.â Heâs huntingâmaybe an opp, maybe a âHenxhmanâ (a garbled âhitmanâ or crew nod)âand bagging heads like trophies. âI stay blamminâ, yeah, thatâs me / But he donât know, I got a maskâ pairs violence with anonymityâCartiâs a phantom shooter. âGen5 came with the TEC / New Gen5 with the tagsâ flaunts a Glock Gen 5, tags still onâfresh and lethal. âI was born ready, ho, red flagâ ties his readiness to gang ties (red for Bloods), a lifelong vibe.
âAll my hoes on the Roxiesâ repeats thriceâhis girls hooked on Roxicodone, a nod to his drugged-out orbit. âJump out the coupe, Iâma hit âem, I dead âemâ blends car flexing with killing, while âAll of these hundreds, canât believe Iâm a felonâ marvels at his wealth despite a rap sheetâa "MUNYUN"-like shock. âThere go my shooter, you know Iâm rebellinâ / Call up my vibe, she handle my weaponâ ends with a Bonnie-and-Clyde twistâhis girlâs his vibe and his gun-handler, rebellion in their DNA. Cartiâs charging fees with a masked grinâchaos is his currency.
Travis Scott closes with a high-rolling flex: âAinât talkinâ publishinâ, I paid the dues with my Gâsâ dismisses music dealsâheâs earned it street-style with his gang. âHermĂšs trays and Cartier sprays, I got a whole case for the planeâ stacks luxuryâtrays for coke, Cartier for flairâplane-ready decadence. âAinât no budget, Iâm bugginâ, David say, âYou spent twelve million on the stage just to rageââ nods to a wild expense (Davidâs likely a manager), framing his "Astroworld" chaos as play money. âThatâs just play money, ainât even playinâ / Still remain, Iâm Blocka La Flameâ keeps him untouchableâBlocka (gunshots) and La Flame, a king unbothered.
âAinât charginâ the game, Iâm charginâ that ho a feeâ twists itârapâs free, but women pay. Travis blends his rockstar edge with trap roots, charging fees like a tycoon raging through life.
"CHARGE DEM HOES A FEE" thrives on its sonic heft. Wheezyâs âWheezy outta hereâ and 808 Mafiaâs bass boom set a trap titan vibeâthink "Rodeo" meets "Whole Lotta Red." Futureâs âwoahâ and Cartiâs âhahâ ad-libs punctuate like cash drops, while the chorusâs repetitionââcharge them hoesââloops hypnotically. Travisâs âstraight upâ and âitâs litâ tie it to his live-show energy. Lyrical devices flash: âthroat is a GOATâ puns on skill and greatness, âthumb through dog shitâ hyperbolizes dirty money, and âborn ready, red flagâ ties birth to bloodshedâsharp, fleeting jabs.
Futureâs pimp tycoon, Cartiâs masked rebel, and Travisâs stage-raging flame form a trinity of dominance. In a 2025 context (assumed), itâs peak trap evolutionâFutureâs "DS2" grit, Cartiâs Opium chaos, and Travisâs "Utopia" scale collide. The âchargeâ ethos nods to pimpingâs legacy (think "Pimp C") but flips it modernâhoes pay with cash, Roxies, or loyalty. Itâs a transatlantic flex with Atlanta rootsâWheezy and 808 Mafia seal the deal.
"CHARGE DEM HOES A FEE" is about pricing powerâeverythingâs a transaction, from throat to trenches. Its artistry lies in its shameless excess: Futureâs moon-bound pimpinâ, Cartiâs Roxie-fueled hunt, and Travisâs twelve-million rage. The trackâs a fee itselfâpay up in attention, or get left behind. Three kings, one rule: charge it, thumb it, and crank it to the moon.