Showing posts with label Rick Ross. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rick Ross. Show all posts

Rick Ross, Wale & Meek Mill feat. T-Pain - Bag Of Money Lyrics


{M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-Maybach Music}

[Intro: Rick Ross (T-Pain)]
Money over everythang (Yeaaah-ee)
Self made, but right now shawty (Ey-ey-ey-ey-ei-ee)
You lookin like money (yea!)
I'm talkin 'bout real money, huh!
(Yeah-EAH!)

[Chorus: Rick Ross (T-Pain)]
My bitch bad, lookin like a bag of money (Ohh-oh-ooh-woooo-ooh-ooooooooh)
That bitch bad, lookin like a bag of money (Yea-ea-ea-ey-ei-ee)
I go and get it and I let her count it for me (Hey-ey-eh-ey-ei-ee)
I fuck her good and she always ride it for me (Ooooh, she bad)
My bitch bad, lookin like a bag of money (She bad bad bad, she bad bad bad)
That bitch bad, lookin like a bag of money (She bad bad bad, she bad ohh-oh-ooh-wooo-ooh)
I go and get it and I let her count it for me (Ohh-oh-ooh-woooo-ooh)
I fuck her good and she always ride it for me (Oooh, she ride it for me)

[Interlude: Rick Ross (T-Pain)]
She got me caught up in the moment (She got me caught up in the mo-MENT!)
She got me cuaght up in the moment (She got me caught up in the moment)
I only kiss her when she on it (Ooh, when she on it)
Fuck her good, make her call me in the morning (Oooh, ooh, whoo)

[Chorus]

[Wale]
Temporary forever (word), levitate witta nigga (word)
I could tease you 'til you hate me, bet you hate them naval kisses (nah)
We can do like eight positions (uh), hit it til yo' make-up missin (uh-huh)
Baby girl my stroke official, and you know I paint that picture
Hoes on my line (Word up!), most of 'em 9s (Word up!)
Couple of 'em dimes, but all my hoes is hard to find
And I ain't always on the prowl, it's just my soda mixed with brown
Got me quite open for a while, so let me in or let me out
And I like my marijuana bright, and I like my window tinted out
Shout out them strippers who hustle - get yours, you know what this about
I just might throw a big amount, don't know if I'm 'posed to take you out
I just know I'm 'posed to praise you up, don't mean I ain't 'posed to take you down
Word up!

[Chorus]

[Meek Mill]
My bitch bad lookin like a bag of money
E'ry time she fuck me she say "Can I have some money?"
And I say, "Can I get a threesome?”, she say "Boy, you funny"
But I be like, "F'real, just pick up that phone, call up one of your girls"
When I'm on that pill and I pop dat purr -- girl, I put in that work
Long as she come to me first, it's fourteen racks what I put on that purse
Shit that Birkin bag, make the old dude mad, when I murk through pass in a dark blue Jag
Say she like my style, but I talk too fast, and I got that drive, and she just might crash
Hold up! She say she fuckin with me the long way (long way)
She gon' ride this dick, I had a long day (long day)
Nigga look at my bitch, you lookin the wrong way
Somethin mean, look exactly just like the song say

[Chorus + Interlude]
Rick Ross, Wale & Meek Mill feat. T-Pain - Bag Of Money Lyrics

Rick Ross – I Swear To God Lyrics


[intro]
watch the real niggas celebrate
all the real niggas selling weight
watch the real niggas celebrate

[hook]
i swear to god, that’s on my kids
every day that i’m alive, i gotta live
for every gangster ever died or did a bid
where i’m from, when niggas ride, they kill it quick
flipping bricks, counting money — so repetitious
highly decorated gangster, so keep a distance
swear to god, that’s on my kids, better mind your business
five grand’ll get you killed, what’s a life sentence?
life sentence, huh!

[verse 1]
i’m paranoid cause i’m in the porsche
in the projects, sitting on a brick of boy
i swear to god, this dick could change your life
so grab your bags, it’s time to catch a flight
i levitate on all these pussy niggas
i never hate on all these pussy niggas
my tax bracket on some other shit
i could put you on that mothership

[hook]

[verse 2]
start winning, niggas wanna whisper in the dark
spray the driver’s side window when the lincoln park
i think these niggas out here reading lips
salty, we the only niggas eating chips
gotta separate from all these pussy niggas
you could never hesitate and you’s a pussy, nigga
we started off dead broke
now i got forty million in a fucking yoke
i got four million in my boat
all jokes aside, a few million in my ho
double m, know the g’s, nigga
on colombia, sipping mojitos with leaves, nigga

[hook]

[verse 3]
rose-gold jesus, rose-gold watch
all-black ghost, all-black glock
three new flows, that’s off top
all white squares, the city on lock
i swear to god, i need a hundred m’s
til the day i die, i plan to represent
hold your heads high, we had a nice run
let the bankers know we have just begun
i broke the mold; my total assets
will get you assholes left in the past tense
i broke the mold in every aspect
i’ll get you assholes left in the past tense

[hook]

Rick Ross – I Swear To God Lyrics

Wale Feat. Rick Ross & Jadakiss – 600 Benz Song Lyrics


[Rick Ross]
600 Benz, house 600 grand
That was 6 years ago, whips come from Japan
I get that work from my face
I get that work from my face

[Wale]
600 Benz, Condo 600 grand
I got 12 hundred kicks them straight from Japan
My ambition is wicked I put that shit on my hands

[Rick Ross]
I get that work from my face
[Wale]
I put that shit on my man

[Wale]
Wale, real n-gga, while I tote a blow and bomb haze?
I just tell CJ keep on rollin’ thats my shorty
Tinted out, you aint seeing through
All black everything, this shit like a HBCU
Maybach music, major moves
I’m saving major loot
I make my old bitch buy me all the latest shoes
One whip just aint enough, I just seen 33
You only half a W without a second V
Gotta be dreamin, gotta be chosen
Shawty when I was 20 I had a Camry and ?
But now I’m ok, I got my shit together
Rozay told me keep on working, shawty you’ll be rich forever, ever
Forever my endeavours and I sever my opponents
I’m cold like its in Denver
The dilemma is, you think I got no conscience
You think I just here flossing or ? shit about ?

[Rick Ross]
600 Benz, house 600 grand
That was 6 years ago, whips come from Japan
I get that work from my face
I get that work from my face

[Wale]
600 Benz, Condo 600 grand
I got 12 hundred kicks them straight from Japan
My ambition is wicked I put that shit on my hands

[Rick Ross]
I get that work from my face
[Wale]
I put that shit on my man

[Jadakiss]
Dependin’ on how I feel, either the coupe or sedan
I’m only dealin’ with you, nothing to do with your man
Ruin your plans, it’s best to do what you can
I’m up to 600 bricks, started with 200 grams
Hand to hand in the cold
Pockets on hella swole
I was breaking ‘em down, now I’m selling ‘em whole
Work straight out the kitchen
Aint no competition
You just shut up and listen and you can complete the mission
Know you want me to fall
I don’t do nothing but ball
You heard I was in jail, but I just came form the mall
I’m on my way to the jeweller bout to cop me a Muller
Keep the digital ruler, at arms length of the ruger
Life’s a bitch and I feel her
Aint nobody iller, ? Godzilla
Catch me blowing vanilla’s
Used to be blood money now it’s go hard scrilla
After I count it all up, I’ma go to the dealer and get a…

[Rick Ross]
600 Benz, house 600 grand
That was 6 years ago, whips come from Japan
I get that work from my face
I get that work from my face

[Wale]
600 Benz, Condo 600 grand
I got 12 hundred kicks them straight from Japan
My ambition is wicked I put that shit on my hands

[Rick Ross]
I get that work from my face
[Wale]
I put that shit on my man

[Wale]
Hope you heard that intro
This that I been grinding cause I’ve been saving for that benz flow
So mash on them petty badges
Tell em’ ? but they never gon catch us
If I am pulled over, I know they gon be on it
Cause it’s hot in here and I got no L like the ’72 Dolphins
Woooh, race my ?, and I bet you never pass me like a safety ?
I’m Polamalu, 600 the newest model
My newest motto to use a condom with newest models
Uhh, got a hundred on the dash uh
Ya aint ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns
I’m a rare one, camo’s and some rare ones
where im from is the circus, hope you don’t expect a fair one
Dropping hundreds like it aint nothing
Really it was but you know I never sayin’ nothing

Wale Feat. Rick Ross & Jadakiss – 600 Benz Song Lyrics

Rick Ross Feat. Lil Wayne – 9 Piece Remix Lyrics


[Rick Ross - Chorus]

I’m smoking dope, I’m on my cell phone
I’m selling dope, straight off the iPhone
he wanna quote, he talking 9 zones
he bought four, I front him 5 more

9 piece, straight 8 balls
MJG bitch I got 8 balls
9 piece, straight 8 balls
MJG bitch I got 8 balls

[Rick Ross - Verse 1]
Suave house, still independant
Distribution Mexican
He still sending
No contract, take my word
Send a hundred packs bitch
Them my birds
Shoe box, no shoes in ‘em
In the two seater, me and two women
No Def Jam, went solo
Took the custy’s price so low

[Rick Ross - Chorus]

I’m smoking dope, I’m on my cell phone
I’m selling dope, straight off the iPhone
he wanna quote, he talking 9 zones
he bought four, I front him 5 more

9 piece, straight 8 balls
MJG bitch I got 8 balls
9 piece, straight 8 balls
MJG bitch I got 8 balls

[Lil Wayne - Verse 2]
It’s Lil Tunechi
Wattup doe?
I’m talking white girl, Marilyn Monroe
And I can get em for the sweet sixteen
Hard doe, call it HD Flat screen
F-ck outta here, no shit water whip
you got that tan though, look like a Florida bitch
Automatic leave you dead in the living room
Get it? Leave ‘em dead in the Living room
F-ck all these n-ggas and tell them bitches, to kiss my ass
I put a pistol to his head tell that n-gga have a blast
F-ck you mean, I’m talking keys like Ray Charles
Rack ‘em up, pool table full of 8 balls
Yeh

[Rick Chorus]
I’m smoking dope, I’m on my cell phone
I’m selling dope, straight off the iPhone
he wanna quote, he talking 9 zones
he bought four, I front him 5 more

9 piece, straight 8 balls
MJG bitch I got 8 balls
9 piece, straight 8 balls
MJG bitch I got 8 balls

Rick Ross Feat. Lil Wayne – 9 Piece Remix Lyrics

Meek Mill Feat. Rick Ross – Tupac Back Song Lyrics


[Rick Ross]
Tupac back, Tupac back
There’s all these bitches screaming that Tupac back
All eyes on me, better Picture Me Rollin’
Buying brand new rims, but them bitches is stolen
Stranded on Death Row, Brenda having my baby
But I’m stacking my paper, I need a brand new Mercedes
They screaming Tupac back, Tupac back
There’s all these btiches screaming that Tupac back

[Meek Mill]
huh, Tupac back, I’m 2 glocks strapped
Rolling down in Philly this the new Iraq
Soon as I hit the the hood they screaming who got wacked
It’s a recession on the work, I’m screaming who got crack
I’m sippin Hennessy, riding on my muthaf-cking enemies
Sliding in the back screamin MMG (Maybach Music)
10 bitches and they dime so it’s Tennessee

Hail Mary, put my wrist on froze
Presidential is gold, n-gga play with my money my Jeweller lifting his soul
40 kick like in soccer? Bullets hittin’ the goal
Bitch I’m like John Wall cause I just give em and go
Plotting on this new 7, I can picture me rolling
Pockets look like they pregnant because them bitches is swollen
Got a ? my cologne, all them snitches could hold em
Look at them muthaf-ckin’ wheels, them bitches is stolen
They screamin’…

[Hook]

[Meek Mill]
Mommy a soldier, daddy is dead
Catch the n-gga that did it, and we gon’ carry his head
F-ck 911, tell em have him in?
Talking Death Row records, tell em have me a chair
Let it burn, I’m screaming free my n-gga Earl?
He’s due in, no hestitation we can’t even get a turn
And my Mackaveli CD then I listened than I learned
Grabbed my Mac above the dresser, my OG’s say hold it firm
I’m dreaming spitting with Pac, cyphers with BIG
Try to send me upstate with the license ?
Had me scraping ym wax, sleeping, my knife in the bed
Got a n-gga on point like there’sa price on my head
I going max, got me knocking suckers and they back
In the cell, raising hell, tryna get back to the trap
But don’t ever get it twisted it’s Meek Mill spittin’ facts
PLus somebody said they seen it and they mean it so they steady screaming

[Hook]

Meek Mill Feat. Rick Ross – Tupac Back Song Lyrics

Lil Wayne Feat. Rick Ross – John Song Lyrics


[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
Fo’ fo’ bulldog, my muthaf-cking pet
I point it at you and tell that muthaf-cker fetch
I’m f-cking her good, she got her legs on my neck
I get p-ssy, mouth and ass, call that bitch triple threat
When I was in jail she let me call her collect
But if she get greedy, I’ma starve her to death
Top down, it’s upset been f-cking the world and n-gga and I aint cum yet!
You f-ck with me wrong, I knock your head off your neck
The flight too long, I got a bed on the jet
The guns are drawn and I aint talking bout a sketch
I pay these n-ggas with a reality check
Prepare for the worst but still praying for the best
This game is a bitch I got my hand up her dress
The money don’t sleep so Weezy can’t rest
An AK47 is my f-cking address, huh

[Rick Ross]
I’m not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car

[Lil Wayne]
Yeah
Load up the choppers like it’s December 31st
Roll up and cock it and hit them n-ggas where it hurts
If I die today, remember me like John Lennon
Buried in Louis, I’m talking all brown linen, huh

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Big black n-gga, and an icey watch
Shoes on the coupe, bitch I got a Nike shop
Counts the profits you could bring ‘em in a Nike box
Grinding in my Jordans kick em off they might high, swish!
I’m swimming in the yellow bitch, boss
In the red 911 looking devilish
Red beam make a bitch n-gga sit down
Thought it were bullet proof till he got hit the fifth time
Drop Palmolive in a n-gga dope
Make it come back even harder than before
Baby I’m the only one that paid your car notes
Well connected, got killers off in Chicago

[Rick Ross]
I’m not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car

[Lil Wayne]
Load up the choppers like it’s December 31st
Roll up and cock it and hit them n-ggas where it hurts
If I die today, remember me like John Lennon
Buried in Louis, I’m talking all brown linen, huh

[Verse 3: Lil Wayne]
Talk stupid get ya head popped
I got that Esther, bitch I’m red fox
Big bee’s, Red Sox
I get money to kill time, dead clocks
Your f-cking with a n-gga who don’t give a f-ck
Empty the clip than roll a window up
P-ssy n-ggas sweet, you n-ggas center bun
I’m in a red bitch, she said she finna cum
200 thou on a chain, I don’t need a piece
That banana clip, let Chiquita speak
Dark shades, Eazy E
Five letters, YMCMB
Bitch ass n-gga, p-ssy ass n-gga
I see ya looking, what ya looking at n-gga
You know the rules, kill em all and keep moving
If I died today it’d be a holiday

[Verse 4: Rick Ross]
I’m not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car
So don’t make it come alive
Rip yo ass apart than I put myself together
YMCMB, double M, we rich forever
The bigger the bullet the more that bitch gon bang
Red on the wall, Basquiat when I paint
Red Lamborghini till I gave it to my bitch
My first home invasion, pocket gain and 40 bricks
Son of a bitch, than I made a great escape
Aint it funny momma, only son be baking cakes
Pull up in the sleigh, hop out like I’m santa claus
N-ggas gather round, got gifts for all of y’all
Take it home and let it bubble that’s the double up
If you get in trouble that just mean you f-cking up
It’s a cold World I need a bird to cuddle up
I call the plays, muthaf-ck huddle up

[Lil Wayne]
I’m not a star, somebody lied, I got a chopper in the car
Yeah

Lil Wayne Feat. Rick Ross – John Song Lyrics

Lil Wayne Feat Rick Ross – If I Die Today Lyrics


[Lil Wayne]
Fo’ fo’ bulldog, my my pack
I point it at you and tell it fetch
I’m f-cking her good, she got her legs on my neck
I get p-ssy, mouth and ass, call it triple threat
When I was in jail she let me call her collect
But if she get greedy, I’ma starve her to death
Top down, it’s upset ? dick in the world and n-gga I aint ? yet!
You f-ck with me wrong, I knock your head off your neck
The flight too long, I got a bed on the jet
The guns are drawn and I aint talking bout a sketch
I pay these n-ggas with a reality check
Prepare for the worst but still praying for the best
This game is a bitch I got my hand up her dress
The money don’t sleep so Weezy can’t rest
An AK47 is my f-cking address, huh

[Rick Ross]
I’m not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car

[Lil Wayne]
Load up the choppers like it’s December 31st
Roll up and cock it and hit them where it hurts
Cause if I die today, remember me like John Lennon
Buried in Louis, I’m talking all brown linen, huh

[Rick Ross]
Big black, and an icey watch
Shoes on the coupe, that got a Nike shop
Counts the profits you could bring ‘em in a Nike box
Grinding in my Jordans kick em off they might high, swish!
I’m swimming in the yellow, boss
In the red 911 looking devilish
Red beam make a n-gga sit down
Thought it were bullet proof till he got hit the fifth time
Drop ?
Make it come back even harder than before
Baby I’m the only one that paid your car notes
Well connected I got killers in Chicago

[Rick Ross]
I’m not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car
I got a chopper in the car

[Lil Wayne]
Load up the choppers like it’s December 31st
Roll up and cock it and hit them where it hurts
Cause if I die today, remember me like John Lennon
Buried in Louis, I’m talking all brown linen, huh

[Lil Wayne]
Talk stupid get ya head popped
I got that Esther, bitch I’m red fox
Big bee’s, Red Sox
I get money to kill time, big clocks
Your f-cking with a n-gga who don’t give a f-ck
Empty the clip than roll a window up
Swe-swe-swe-sweet, center bun
I’m in a red, she said she
200 thou on a chain, I don’t need a piece
That banana clip, let ya ? speak
Dark shades, Eazy E
Five letters, YMCMB
F-ck that N-gga, f-ck that n-gga
I see ya looking, what ya looking at n-gga
You know the rules, kill em all and keep moving
If I died today it’d be a holiday

[Rick Ross]
I’m not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car
So don’t make it come alive
Rip ya apart than I put myself together
YMCMB, double M, we rich forever
The bigger the bullet the more that bitch gon bang
Red on the wall, Basquiat when I paint
Red Lamborghini till I gave it to my bitch
My first home invasion, pocket gain and 40 bricks
Son of a bitch, than I made a great escape
Aint it funny momma, only son be baking cakes
Pull up in the sleigh, hop out like I’m santa claus
N-ggas gather round, I got gifts for all of y’all
Take it home and let it bubble thats the double up
If you get in trouble that just mean you f-cking up
It’s a cold World I need a bird to cuddle up
I call the plays, muthaf-ck huddle up

[Lil Wayne]
I’m not a star, somebody lied, I got a chopper in the car
Yeah

Pusha T Feat. Rick Ross & Ab Liva – I Still Wanna Song Lyrics


[Pusha T]
It’s like an itch you can’t scratch
It’s like a bitch you can’t shake
I still want it

Sleeping with the finest
The thread count is bindless
Security blanket of cocaine, I am Linus
In this climate I’m Kareem Burke tied in
The Roc silent partner I aint throwing up the diamond
Throwin’ on the sherwin, collars up, bottles up
Sparkles to the table, got em feeling like he’s Merlin
Whirlwind, powder makes your World spin
Learn from OG’s, Alpha Romeo’s and Sterling
Updated that, upgraded that
Suffocation blue, in the inside’s potato sacks
Yeah, talk money, I’m made of that
Cocaine parties, like the 70′s I cater that
You know what fame is?
Sittin with the women of your dreams and forgettin’ what her name is
You know what pain is?
Flushing 2 bricks and have a n-gga try to strain it out the drainage

[Hook]
See my face on the news and it aint Tivo
I still wanna sell kilo’s
It’s like I’m throwing rocks at the pen begging for the rico
I still wanna sell kilo’s
Searching for the fish scale like I’m tryna find Nemo
I still wanna sell kilo’s
Thats what happen’s when you Michael and they try to treat you like Tito
I still wanna sell kilo’s

[Rick Ross]
Grew up watching momma car repoed
A little n-gga staring through the peep hole
How you think I felt knowing daddy wasn’t there
Recycling cans cause nobody ever cared
Get it how you live, always echoed in the streets
When we talking business, talking on the phone cease
Feds listening to conversations through my own star
piecing puzzles together solving homocides ?
Dice game chatter, better bring your stash out
Red Velour, I’m in the white glass house
Half a ticket bitches quick to drop it on the scale
Fiddling dope a real n-gga sell yayo
Everyday a n-gga dies than we can’t ask why
Show em all love, the bitches f-cked on the side
Tony Montana, tailor made suits in the church
Rolls Royce called ?, trunk full of work

[Hook]
See my face on the news and it aint Tivo
I still wanna sell kilo’s
It’s like I’m throwing rocks at the pen begging for the rico
I still wanna sell kilo’s
Searching for the fish scale like I’m tryna find Nemo
I still wanna sell kilo’s
Thats what happen’s when you Michael and they try to treat you like Tito
I still wanna sell kilo’s

[Ab Liva]
Testarossa top models, G4′s, Gucci pass the crease off
Everything I climb in, I win
Richer male, ?, remarkable timing
Black label everything, logo’s in the lining
Bell Biv DeVoe push poison like a copper head
Powder smoke clears through the walking dead
The Rose bottles pour for the Champions
You think it was a Grammy win
Celebration spills through the morning like an ambion
Bithces love my ambience
Chain swinging, ticker taping like it’s Mardi Gras
Thousand n-ggas deep, never needed body guards
Thousands keys that I’m about to do pilates on
Where the Kings crowned like the grill a Maserati’s on
Candy coated parked, doors ajar, on a stripper
blew a fuse and caught a body on
Cocaine storaging
Liva living dreams, ya DeLoreans pouring in

[Hook]