Categories
Lyrics

PARTYNEXTDOOR – Better Man lyrics

(feat. Rick Ross)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Rich niggas apologize too
It’s a party next door
I hear the music loud and clear though

[Chorus: PARTYNEXTDOOR]
It seems like breakin’ your heart is the easiest part
And lovin’ you right, only gets harder, ooh
What do I gotta do? Yeah
(What do I gotta do?)
What do I gotta do, (gotta do?) What do I gotta do? Yeah
(What do I gotta do? What do I gotta do?)
Just give me some time so I can be a better lover
(A better lover)
Just give me some time so I can be a better lover
(A better love)

[Verse 1: PARTYNEXTDOOR]
And in exchange I’ll give you space, timin’ is everything
I even seen you cry, seen you dream
I watched my mama go through the same thing

[Refrain: PARTYNEXTDOOR]
You saw me standing close
Holding hands, with someone else, yeah
Your heart can feel it all
Love my actions, not the words

[Chorus: PARTYNEXTDOOR]
It seems like breakin’ your heart is the easiest part
And lovin’ you right, only gets harder, ooh
What do I gotta do? Yeah
(What do I gotta do?)
What do I gotta do, (gotta do?) What do I gotta do? Yeah
(What do I gotta do? What do I gotta do?)
Just give me some time so I can be a better lover
(A better lover)
Just give me some time so I can be a better lover
(A better love)

[Verse 2: PARTYNEXTDOOR]
Why don’t we ever grieve or ask me what I need? Oh
Situations turn to complications, way too easy
And I know it’s me
Never planning you shit
Never thought that I’d share your pain
I even seen you cry, I seen you dream
And I watched my mother go through these things, and

[Refrain: PARTYNEXTDOOR]
You saw me standing close
Holding hands, with someone else, yeah
Your heart can feel it all
Love my actions, not the words

[Chorus: PARTYNEXTDOOR & Rick Ross]
It seems like breakin’ your heart is the easiest part
And lovin’ you right, only gets harder, ooh
What do I gotta do? Yeah
(What do I gotta do?)
What do I gotta do, (gotta do?) What do I gotta do? Yeah
(What do I gotta do? What do I gotta do?)
Just give me some time so I can be a better lover
(A better lover)
We got this
Just give me some time so I can be a better lover
(A better lover)
It gets even better, baby
Maybach Music

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
Pain and compassion come in fast, tell me, will it last?
Tomorrow’s never promised, so today let’s tip the glass
Gold bottles got us rollin’ all over the floor (floor)
Threw a party for a looks, I order some more (more)
Never ’bout the money, truly I just need a purpose (purpose)
Help me make it through the dark until he pull the curtains (curtains)
Up and downs while I’m climbin’ this silly life of mine (of mine)
So much pain, so it’s champagne until I’m satisfied (satisfied)
Coach seats, I was just happy we was takin’ off (takin’ off)
Went to war, made it back, now time to take it off (take it off)
Two chicks, new twist, I wanna taste her lips (taste her lips)
Close her eyes, blew her mind, now let’s take a trip (take a trip)
Duffle bag, baby girl, she want a duffle bag (duffle bag)
Red bottoms, she had enough of that (enough of that)
To the greatest sex and now we make a toast (make a toast)
Renzel blowin’ that thick smoke (thick smoke)
Maybach Music

[Chorus: PARTYNEXTDOOR]
What do I gotta do, yeah, what do I gotta do?
What do I gotta do?
Just give me some time so I can be
And lovin’ you right, only gets harder, ooh
What do I gotta do, yeah, what do I gotta do

[Outro]
PARTY

Categories
Lyrics

She On My Dick Remix

Lyrics to ‘She On My Dick Remix’ by Rick Ross:

–Intro: Bruno Mali–
Maybach Music
Slide, hoe, watch this
I’m drippin’ dressin’ on these hoes, nigga
Get your bitch, nigga
She gettin’ real friendly, nigga
Talk to these niggas

–Verse 1: Meek Mill–
Richest nigga in the city so she on my dick
Shawty know she fuck me good and like she caught a lick
My daughters took that for the feds, went and bought a brick
Said welcome back, gave ’em some keys on some reporter shit, woah
Whippin’ the white, we might just ran through a brick in the night
Give ’em a price, Lord a number when he flip it twice
Still in the trap, bitch on her back while I’m out for a bite
I’m on some shit, these niggas ain’t lit, I give ’em a life, woah
She on my dick, she on my dick
Got that word, that pussy good now she on my list
Rose Patek, look like duck sauce on my wrist
Young nigga, Bentley trucks parked on my strip
Standin’ on the corner like I’m King Kong
And [?] stop with that .40, playin’ ding dong
And back and forth, ain’t no rappers like ping pong
She fuck Rozay, she on my dick, we sing the same song, woah

–Chorus: Rick Ross–
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
She seen my moves, she on my dick (woo)
The richest nigga, yeah, she on my dick (woo)

–Verse 2: Young Dolph–
I used to torture, gave him back his life
He got it wrong if he think I’ma fight him
War cries on all on my lil’ homies homicidal
300 soldiers like I’m Leonidas
I flips them yams and gave my man a Merci
We pop them bottles every night like it’s our anniversary
Hot in Dade County, they gon’ try to stretch him
One APB and they’ll apply the pressure
I know them hot boys, she say I’m the coolest
That coolin’ kid’ll have that chopper coolin’
I took a 50k right to my jewler
Even though a nigga got it, I be actin’ Jewish
No Master P, they got me feelin’ foolish
She hold my dick, I let my gangster bitch hold down my toolie
Yeah, she got potential so I had to school her
I text her papi, he send me my moolah

–Chorus: Rick Ross–
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
Richest nigga in the city, she on my dick (woo)

–Verse 3: Bruno Mali–
I tried to spread the bitch but she on my dick
Told her jump up in this whip, come and drive a stick
I might buy a purse, I might pay her rent
She a all-star, first round draft pick
She call me at the gas station pumpin’ gas
I pulled up at the Chev, run up, drop off a couple bags
Fish tailin’ off the lot with somebody’s thot
When she met me, I was in a drop countin’ guap
Said she fantasize ’bout a real trap nigga
She on my dick so hard, she came before I put it in her
Ha, young, rich, black, trap nigga
With a fuckin’ 7 figures
A huncho on my wrist
Pull up in the whip with the shit and blow your bitch a kiss
All of this ice on me make it hard for you to miss
Every time you see me, look like I just hit a lick, woah

–Chorus: Rick Ross–
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
Richest nigga in the city, she on my dick (woo)

–Verse 4: Rick Ross–
Rims stackin’ on the rear, album of the year
If I want to see her, well then here come the lear
Clear the runway and double in [?]
The baddest bitches only ones that come to see us
Jewels every every day, I’m burnin’ loud (that’s me)
On the top floor and I’m the biggest earnin’ now (that’s me)
Shittin’ on these niggas, Tweet, see ’em in the streets
I’m only talkin’ money so we rarely speak
I got the bitch a buzz and she fell in love
Now she climbin’ out the deck, fuckin’ with a thug
Had my skully on when I fuck her in the tub
Dirty money, buy Chevys, only one I love
She love it how I’m livin’, such a wise decision
In the history books, never in my feelin’s
Pussy wet enough, I think I got her drippin’
Still on my lap, I could count a million

–Chorus: Rick Ross–
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
She on my dick, she on my dick (woo)
Richest nigga in the city, she on my dick (woo)

Categories
Lyrics

Dj Khaled – Whatever Lyrics

DJ KHALED
Whatever Lyrics

[Future:]
Hide the money and ran outta room, yeah
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
[DJ Khaled:] DJ Khaled!

[Future:]
Money on your head, you might get hit up today
You can’t be wonderin’ why they always stayin’ dead broke
In the kitchen cookin’ chickens like a redbone
My grandma seen me buy my first Polo sweater, ayy
Got my hand flooded, I
Buy the whole projects, I
Got my hood stuntin’, this whatever, I
Charge the whole 30, I
Got my niggas workin’, I
Got my bitches down for whatever
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
Whatever!
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
Whatever!

[Young Thug:]
(Geek!)
Pay up like I’ve been runnin’ it up forever
I ran that shit up through the roof
Young nigga, ran that shit up for his mother
Buy her everything and I got proof
Up, designer fit, ain’t nothing to buy it
And I done whipped every tire
With the brake pad, "Mello Yello"
Catch up
Bring me up like your pop-pop
Whatever you need to
I skeet then skeet off in a new coupe
Keep up!
That V-12 ’bout to heat up
Grab your seatbelt, your seatbelt
The color of my boxers, yeah I’m Tommy’d up
Got the Tommy tucked, ayy
I toss that shit up like a spray
Watch it spill on the clothes
I soak that shit up
When they told me, "Don’t matter, boss won"
I suspended these bitches
And I subpoenaed these niggas
See who was real
I supported my bank account
And I wouldn’t tell you the account
‘Less I need to put some of this money on your head

[Future:]
Money on your head, you might get hit up today
You can’t be wonderin’ why they always stayin’ dead broke
In the kitchen cookin’ chickens like a redbone
My grandma seen me buy my first Polo sweater, ayy
Got my hand flooded, I
Buy the whole projects, I
Got my hood stuntin’, this whatever, I
Charge the whole 30, I
Got my niggas workin’, I
Got my bitches down for whatever
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
Whatever!
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
Whatever!

[Rick Ross:]
Maybach Music
DIamonds all on my fingers
Misses still miscellaneous
Left the ski-mask in the ‘Rari
Residencies out in Vegas
Smoking like Calvin Broadus
Blueberry with the big homie
"Idols Become Rivals"
Down to die for my survival
Fell in love with the money
She at the spot every Sunday
Loyalty’s what I lust
How I measure my woman
Minimize my mistakes
Love every tat on my face
DJ Khaled, my blood
Got several M’s in my safe

[Future:]
Money on your head, you might get hit up today
You can’t be wonderin’ why they always stayin’ dead broke
In the kitchen cookin’ chickens like a redbone
My grandma seen me buy my first Polo sweater, ayy
Got my hand flooded, I
Buy the whole projects, I
Got my hood stuntin’, this whatever, I
Charge the whole 30, I
Got my niggas workin’, I
Got my bitches down for whatever
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
Whatever!
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
Whatever!

[2 Chainz:]
2 Chainz
Watch me break down bales
Residue on scales
Yeah, I had the girls sick
Man-I-Cure like nails
Competition might fail
Repetition might sell
Dirty kitchen, dirty dishes
Dirty bitches, oh well
Foreign whip rider
Lobster on my rider
You can get the platter
I put my money up, uh
You gon’ need a ladder
Work know acrobatics
Work know calisthenics
My dick be acting stingy
My check be acting boujee
My car got all the groupies
I bought a new Rolex
Now my old Rolex tryna sue me
Fashion on exotic
Pistol on regardless
Bitches look like Barbie
Ricky Bobby on my trolly

[Future:]
Tryna set a bando on fire
I’m just tryna get you so higher
Money coming in, we get flyer
You must be tryna wife her like Tiger

Money on your head, you might get hit up today
You can’t be wonderin’ why they always stayin’ dead broke
In the kitchen cookin’ chickens like a redbone
My grandma seen me buy my first Polo sweater, ayy
Got my hand flooded, I
Buy the whole projects, I
Got my hood stuntin’, this whatever, I
Charge the whole 30, I
Got my niggas workin’, I
Got my bitches down for whatever
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
Whatever!
I tried to hide the money and ran outta room
Whatever!

Categories
Lyrics

Rick Ross – Idols Become Rivals (feat. Chris Rock) (Rather You Than Me Album)

Yo this Chris Rock
I’m in here with my man Ricky Rozay
We in here drinkin’ this Belaire Rose
That’s how we do it
That’s all we do
Belaire Rose!
Eatin’ Wingstop, what you know about Wingstop, nigga?
You don’t know nothin’ about no Wingstop
You can’t handle this, nigga
You can’t handle, sit down in the corner, shut the fuck up and take notes, bitch
Just take notes
I used to see niggas on TV, man
I used to be like, "Yo them niggas so blessed, you know what I’m sayin’?"
If I had that opportunity, you know what I’m sayin’?
Maybach Music
Black Metaphor
I grew up on that Cash Money
Bling bling, was well known to flash money
Hit the liquor store, after my Vic authority
Quick to switch a bitch up, pick up me a thicker shorty
Pistol on me, nigga, ain’t no pickin’ on me
We veterans so it’s better if you go get your army
A thug holiday is where your body lay
Me and Trick Daddy come from a common place
So us gettin’ money, that’s just a conversation
It’s so hard stayin’ rich and miss the confrontations
Cigars in the oval office, Ronald Reagan
Heard Barack Obama whisper "Asalaam alaikum"
Live for the moment, die for the streets
Bible on the dash, kilos on the seat
I used to see you niggas on my TV screen
And wondered what was life like, was it all a dream?
And then I met you out on LiveNation dates
Came to the realization that your watch was fake
Damn, you nearly broke my heart
I really thought you niggas really owned them cars
I used to look up to you, nigga, uh
Hard to point a finger when you live a life of sin
I’ma bring my niggas with me if I lose or win
Bought a fleet of cars, let the bitches tag along
This little thing of ours, not the ones to tattle on
Omerta the code, Met Ball, parties with Vogue
Still blowin’ thick smoke while you powder your nose
Such a head rush until the day the feds rush
That’s when you niggas wish you put your bread up
Leased whips, bad blood, that shit’ll sink ships
Fast money comin’ slow, you better think quick
Rap game, so much fuck shit done
That’s why this .45 in my Trukfit trunks
Fuck a skateboard, I went and got a Wraith, boy
Catholic record labels, niggas gettin’ raped, boy
Birdman’s a priest, moans in his synagogue
Publishin’ is a sin, repent, forgive me, Lord
Shots fired, home invasion out on Palm Isle
Red beam detonators, who the bomb now?
Look you in your eyes, nigga, ‘fore I say good night
And pray that Mannie Fresh’ll get to see the light
Damn, Stunna, I loved you, nigga
Hate it came to this
Maybach Music
You stole them boys pub and bought a foreclosure
Scott Storch demons in it, which is more poison
I handed over records, never charged a coin
But could sense the sentiment, I’m talkin’ all along
All Miami issues, Rozay handle for him
Same way Big Ducky do for me in California
Never slippin’, got relationships with the trillest niggas
Tony Draper, J Prince and every Jimmy Henchmen
Plenty killers and I know that Diddy with it
Tyga, chinchilla, really ain’t no penny pinchin’
Knew that you would never visit BG
Turk came home, take that boy a three piece
Shootin’ dope, usin’ coke, movin’ like you the Folks
Sacrificin’ half our life for your new music cult
You would give us self esteem and motivate our drive
But was in our pockets by the time we count to five
I pray you find the kindness in your heart for Wayne
His entire life, he gave you what there was to gain
I watched this whole debacle so I’m part to blame
Last request, can all producers please get paid?
Can’t believe this shit, homie
I still love you, nigga
How the fuck, nigga, you touch half a billion, nigga
And your team starvin’, nigga
You on an island, nigga
You came to my city, nigga
I let you in my city, nigga
And what hurt me the most, nigga
Is how you did my brother Khaled, nigga
Khaled was loyal to you, nigga
The pain I seen in my brother’s eye, nigga
FaceTimin’ my nigga, nigga, he took that to the chin, nigga
That’s why my nigga blessed
That’s why my nigga Khaled blessed
You put my nigga in the hole, homie
I don’t feel you for that, my nigga
That shit hurt me, you under-dig? Uh
It’s painful what you see real niggas do when they get the paper
When they get the bag
You can’t never forget ’bout lil bruh and them
I’ll never forget ’bout lil bruh and them
Lil bruh and them, always remember
Lil bruh and them, this for lil bruh and them
Stunna

Categories
Lyrics

Rick Ross – Maybach Music V (feat. Dej Loaf) (Rather You Than Me Album)

What is this?
Maybach Music
I like this Maybach Music
Sweet!
And we lie together, cry together
And I swear I hope we fucking die together
And I’ll be loving you forever
(You’re all that I need to get by)
I used to play hard to get, like a sample on a hook
We used to play with the pots, you told me you was a cook
I was runnin’ too long, he was chasin’, didn’t trip
How’d he do it? I don’t know but somehow I got hooked
Thug passion, he’s so compassionate
MMG, yeah, that’s his acronym
Call him D-A-D-D-Y, like I’m in a bassinet
He’s in pieces, he be all up into my fashion shit
Poppin’, rockin’, my panties, they match my slips
Been through it all; I could give a narrative
No fiction, nah, we ain’t no characters
I mean if I bust my gun, you gon’ bust yours too
Type to double up, you know that I ain’t gon’ fuck the budget up
Type of bitch deserve it all, who gon’ compete with her?
He use to have a cold heart (cold heart)
Now my ring finger doin’ the double dutch
And we lie together, cry together
And I swear I hope we fucking die together
And I’ll be loving you forever
(You’re all that I need to get by)
You’re all I need (Dream together, scream together)
You’re all I need (And if we go to war, fuck the world together)
And if we go to war (And I’ll be loving you forever)
Fuck the world together (You’re all that I need to get by)
You’re all that I need to get by
(You’re all that I need to get by)
You’re all that I need to get by
(Oh, oh, oh, oh)
Let the dog roam, he found his way back
Loyal to the soil, I never change that
We go way back, I can take you way back
Used to ride Chevy’s only, now we in a Maybach, yeah
Caramel, she ride on top like it’s a carousel
So infectious, I’m addicted, how would she ever fail
All my works are classic, maybe this my Magnum Opus
Too focused to give pussy to one of my soldiers
The loyalty is deep, she my Meryl Streep
My Michelle, we menage, do that through the week
On the phone, she had me listenin’ to Boyz II Men
I’m tryna be at all the dope boy events
Food stamps, now we dinin’ on islands
Diced pineapples, now she’s my piña colada
Put my coattail on my dog; I thought was my rider
Every day he wore a wire, just like his designer
Some things are meant to be, some thing are meant to be
The day they sentence me, show me no sympathy
If it’s the Lord’s will, so be it, that boy been a ‘G’
That boy been a ‘G’
(Maybach Music)
You’re all I need to get by
(Oh, oh, oh, oh)
Let the dog roam, he found his way back
Loyal to the soil, I never change that
We go way back, I can take you way back
Used to ride Chevy’s only, now we in a Maybach, yeah
She full of confidence, we compliment each other
Got my pistol in her purse so she a cocky nigga
She tatted up and way too trill for cover ups
We both went in, that’s even when it’s one of us
We switchin’ cars right before the summer comes
She my people so I’m beefin’ when that trouble come
Kissin’ in the club, I’m grippin’ on your hips
I’m richer than before; I hit a couple licks
Travelin’, I leave the keys to all the cars
The hallway just like walking through the rainforest
Before producers started sendin’ tracks
Once was a dependent on her income tax
You did the math and said you’d give me half
It was genuine when we would interact
So when I got the bag, I had to double back
Let go a milli, shit, it may be off a couple racks
(Maybach Music)
You’re all I need to get by
(Oh, oh, oh, oh)
Let the dog roam, he found his way back
Loyal to the soil, I never change that
We go way back, I can take you way back
Used to ride Chevy’s only, now we in the Maybach, yeah
There go that nigga
Swim with the big fish
It’s that Chanel music
Let the dog roam, he found his way back
(That Givenchy)
Loyal to the soil, I never change that
We go way back, I can take you way back
Used to ride Chevy’s only, now we in the Maybach, yeah
It’s priceless
I’d rather you than me
That’s always
You’re all I need to get by

Categories
Lyrics

RICK ROSS – Maybach Music V lyrics

What is this?
Maybach Music
I like this Maybach Music
Sweet!

And we lie together, cry together
And I swear I hope we fucking die together
And I’ll be loving you forever
(You’re all that I need to get by)

I used to play hard to get, like a sample on a hook
We used to play with the pots, you told me you was a cook
I was runnin’ too long, he was chasin’, didn’t trip
How’d he do it? I don’t know but somehow I got hooked
Thug passion, he’s so compassionate
MMG, yeah, that’s his acronym
Call him D-A-D-D-Y, like I’m in a bassinet
He’s in pieces, he be all up into my fashion shit
Poppin’, rockin’, my panties, they match my slips
Been through it all; I could give a narrative
No fiction, nah, we ain’t no characters
I mean if I bust my gun, you gon’ bust yours too
Type to double up, you know that I ain’t gon’ fuck the buddy up
Type of bitch deserve it all, who gon’ compete with her?
He use to have a cold heart (cold heart)
Now my ring finger doin’ the double dutch

And we lie together, cry together
And I swear I hope we fucking die together
And I’ll be loving you forever
(You’re all that I need to get by)
You’re all I need
Dream together, scream together
You’re all I need
And if we go to war, fuck the world together
And if we go to war
And I’ll be loving you forever
Fuck the world together
(You’re all that I need to get by)
You’re all that I need to get by
(You’re all that I need to get by)
You’re all that I need to get by
(Oh, oh, oh, oh)

Let the dog roam, he found his way back
Loyal to the soil, I never change that
We go way back, I can take you way back
Used to ride Chevy’s only, now we in a Maybach, yeah

Caramel, she ride on top like it’s a carousel
So infectious, I’m addicted, how would she ever fail
All my works are classic, maybe this my magnum opus
Too focused to give pussy to one of my soldiers
The loyalty is deep, she my Meryl Streep
My Michelle, we menage, do that through the week
On the phone, she had me listenin’ to Boyz II Men
I’m tryna be at all the dope boy events
Food stamps like we dinin’ on islands
Diced pineapples, now she’s my piña colada
Put my coattail on my dog; I thought was my rider
Every day he wore a wire, just like his designer
Some things are meant to be, some thing are meant to be
The day they sentence me, show me no sympathy
If it’s the Lord’s will, so be it, that boy been a ‘G’
That boy been a ‘G’

You’re all I need to get by
(Oh, oh, oh, oh)
Let the dog roam, he found his way back
Loyal to the soil, I never change that
We go way back, I can take you way back
Used to ride Chevy’s only, now we in a Maybach, yeah

She full of confidence, we compliment each other
Got my pistol in her purse so she a cocky nigga
She tatted up and way too trill for cover ups
We both went in, that’s even when it’s one of us
We switchin’ cars right before the summer comes
She my people so I’m beefin’ when that trouble come
Kissin’ in the club, I’m grippin’ on your hips
I’m richer than before; I hit a couple licks
Travelin’, I leave the keys to all the cars
The hallway just like walking through the rainforest
Before producers started singin’ tracks
Once was a dependent on the income tax
You did the math and said you’d give me half
It was genuine when we would interact
So when I got the bag, I had to double back
Let go a milli, shit, it made me off a couple racks

You’re all I need to get by
(Oh, oh, oh, oh)
Let the dog roam, he found his way back
Loyal to the soil, I never change that
We go way back, I can take you way back
Used to ride Chevy’s only, now we in the Maybach, yeah

There go that nigga
Swim with the big fish
It’s that Chanel music
That Givenchy
Let the dog roam, he found his way back
Givency
Loyal to the soil, I never change that
We go way back, I can take you way back
Used to ride Chevy’s only, now we in the Maybach, yeah
It’s priceless
I’d rather you than me
That’s all it is
You’re all I need to get by
[?]

Categories
Lyrics

Rick Ross – Idols Become Rivals Lyrics

[Skit: Chris Rock]
Yo this Chris Rock. I’m in here with my man Ricky Rozay. We in here drinkin’ this Belaire Rose. That’s how we do it. That’s all we do. Belaire Rose! Eatin’ Wingstop, what you know about Wingstop, nigga? You don’t know nothin’ about no Wingstop. You can’t handle this, nigga. You can’t handle, sit down in the corner, shut the fuck up and take notes, bitch. Just take notes

[Intro: Rick Ross]
I used to see niggas on TV, man
I used to be like, “Yo them niggas so blessed, you know what I’m sayin’?”
If I had that opportunity, you know what I’m sayin’?
Maybach Music
Black Metaphor

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I grew up on that Cash Money
Bling bling, was well known to flash money
Hit the liquor store, after my Vic authority
Quick to switch a bitch up, pick up me a thicker shorty
Pistol on me, nigga, ain’t no pickin’ on me
We veterans so it’s better if you go get your army
A thug holiday is where your body lay
Me and Trick Daddy come from a common place
So us gettin’ money, that’s just a conversation
It’s so hard stayin’ rich and miss the confrontations
Cigars in the oval office, Ronald Reagan
Heard Barack Obama whisper asalaam alaikum
Live for the moment, die for the streets
Bible on the dash, kilos on the seat
I used to see you niggas on my TV screen
And wondered what was life like, was it all a dream?
And then I met you out on LiveNation dates
Came to the realization that your watch was fake
Damn… you nearly broke my heart
I really thought you niggas really owned them cars

[Interlude: Rick Ross]
I used to look up to you, nigga, uh

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Hard to point a finger when you live a life of sin
I’ma bring my niggas with me if I lose or win
Bought a fleet of cars, let the bitches tag along
This little thing of ours, not the ones to tattle on
Omerta the code, Met Ball, parties with Vogue
Still blowin’ thick smoke while you powder your nose
Such a head rush until the day the feds rush
That’s when you niggas wish you put your bread up
Leased whips, bad blood, that shit’ll sink ships
Fast money comin’ slow, you better think quick
Rap game, so much fuck shit done
That’s why this .45 in my Trukfit trunks
Fuck a skateboard, I went and got a Wraith, boy
Catholic record labels, niggas gettin’ raped, boy
Birdman’s a priest, moans in his synagogue
Publishin’ is a sin, repent, forgive me, Lord
Shots fired, home invasion out on Palm Ave
Red beam detonators, who the bomb now?
Look you in your eyes, nigga, ‘fore I say good night
And pray that Mannie Fresh’ll get to see the light

[Interlude: Rick Ross]
Damn, Stunna, I loved you, nigga
Hate it came to this
Maybach Music

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
You stole them boys pub and bought a foreclosure
Scott Storch demons in it, which is more poison
I handed over records, never charged a coin
But consist the sentiment, I’m talkin’ all alone
All Miami issues, Rozay handle for him
Same way Big Ducky do for me in California
Never slippin’, got relationships with the trillest niggas
Tony Draper, J Prince and ever Jimmy Henchmen
Plenty killers and I know that Diddy with it
Tiger, chinchilla, really ain’t no penny pinchin’
Knew that you would never visit BG
Turk came home, take that boy a three piece
Shootin’ dope, usin’ coke, movin’ like you the Folks
Sacrificin’ half our life for your new music cult
You would give us self esteem and motivate our drive
But was in our pockets by the time we count to five
I pray you find the kindness in your heart for Wayne
His entire life, he gave you what there was to gain
I watched this whole debacle so I’m part to blame
Last request, can all producers please get paid?

[Outro: Rick Ross]
Can’t believe this shit, homie
I still love you, nigga
How the fuck, nigga, you touch half a billion, nigga
And your team starvin’, nigga
You on an island, nigga
You came to my city, nigga
I let you in my city, nigga
And what hurt me the most, nigga
Is how you did my brother Khaled, nigga
Khaled was loyal to you, nigga
The pain I seen in my brother’s eye, nigga
FaceTimin’ my nigga, nigga, he took that to the chin, nigga
That’s why my nigga blessed
That’s why my nigga Khaled blessed
You put my nigga in the hole, homie
I don’t feel you for that, my nigga
That shit hurt me, you under-dig? Uh
It’s painful what you see real niggas do when they get the paper
When they get the bag
You can’t never forget ’bout lil bruh and them
I’ll never forget ’bout lil bruh and them
Lil bruh and them, always remember
Lil bruh and them, this for lil bruh and them
Stunna

Categories
Lyrics

Rick Ross – Kyrie (Black Jack Album)

[Interlude]
DP on the beat
Man: Listen Rozay I want some dope, I heard y’all sell dope
Ross: So what type of dope you want bitch?
Maybach Music

[Hook: Rick Ross]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
Steven Curry, Under Armour on my gang
They hit me close range, bitch ain’t hit a thing
Cut the dog food up with the (?)
The junkies they hit ’em like a canon ball
Don’t nobody do it like Miami does
Bought 20 kilos, coulda bought Miami subs
Let her snort a line so she can get a buzz
She says she want a dime, I told her get a dub
My city one big hospice, I could pull the plug
Them bitches know it’s us before we pulling up
Keep it gangster, 20 bottles of Bel-Air
And got all of the dope boy’s hands in the air

[Hook: Rick Ross]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
I wanna build a mansion in Port-Au-Prince
Speaking creole with all of my Haitian friends
Kilos for the low and Bahamas the (?)
Everything is diamond, can’t cop in a drought
I’m breezing through the beats, shout my nigga Pauchillo
Dave Grutman in the building, toast like the Goodfellas
20 million, baby that’s my water bill
Got Puffy on the phone talking a quarter bill
Piece of honey now I’m talking Taco Bell
Youngest nigga in the US with 100 mil
Ain’t too many hoes I haven’t done for real
Money in my pocket, boy I’m number one for real
Benz running and I’m sitting on the trunk
Rolling up a blunt, getting my dick sucked

[Hook: Rick Ross]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
I see you fucking up like you a Donald Trump
I cast a vote and get a pussy nigga slumped
I gave my dog a stack, that shit was barely lunch
He got it done and called me back like batter’s up
He hit a bystander which didn’t matter much
And then I ate that pussy like it’s Captain Crunch
We cruising La Brea like we was Mexican
When it come to your hustle, exhibit excellence
Step to my clique and you’ll meet the exorcist
If you’re ever in debt then you’ll be the deficit
In the oval office and I’m iced out
Ankle monitor beeping in the white house

[Hook: Rick Ross]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

Categories
Lyrics

Rick Ross – Kyrie Lyrics

[Intro]
(DP on the beat)
Man: Listen Rozay I want some dope, I heard y’all sell dope
Ross: So what type of dope you want bitch?
Maybach Music

[Hook]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving

[Verse 1]
Stephen Curry, Under Armour on my gang
They hit me close range, bitch ain’t hit a thing
Cut the dog food up with the (?)
The junkies they hit ’em like a canon ball
Don’t nobody do it like Miami does
Bought 20 kilos, coulda bought Miami subs
Let her snort a line so she can get a buzz
She says she want a dime, I told her get a dub
My city one big hospice, I could pull the plug
Them bitches it’s us before we pulling up
Keep it gangster, 20 bottles of Bel-Air
And got all of the dope boy’s hands in the air

[Hook]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

[Verse 2]
I wanna build a mansion in Port-Au-Prince
Speaking creole with all of my Haitian friends
Kilos for the low and Bahamas the (?)
Everything is diamond, can’t cop in a drought
I’m breezing through the beats, shout my nigga Pauchillo
Dave Grutman in the building, toast like the Goodfellas
20 million, baby that’s my water bill
Got Puffy on the phone talking a quarter bill
Piece of honey now I’m talking Taco Bell
Youngest nigga in the US with 100 mil
Ain’t too many hoes I haven’t done for real
Money in my pocket, boy I’m number one for real
Benz running and I’m sitting on the trunk
Rolling up a blunt, getting my dick sucked

[Hook]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

[Verse 3]
I see you fucking up like you a Donald Trump
I cast a vote and get a pussy nigga slumped
I gave my dog a stack, that shit was barely lunch
He got it done and called me back like batter’s up
He hit a bystander which didn’t matter much
And then I ate that pussy like Captain Crunch
We cruising (?) like we was Mexican
When it come to your hustle, exhibit excellence
Step to my clique and you’ll meet the exorcist
If you’re ever in debt then you’ll be the deficit
In the oval office and I’m iced out
Ankle monitor beeping in the white house

[Hook]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

Categories
Lyrics

Rick Ross – Kyrie

[Intro]
(DP on the beat)
Man: Listen Rozay I want some dope, I heard y’all sell dope
Ross: So what type of dope you want bitch?
Maybach Music

[Hook]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving

[Verse 1]
Stephen Curry, Under Armour on my gang
They hit me close range, bitch ain’t hit a thing
Cut the dog food up with the (?)
The junkies they hit ’em like a canon ball
Don’t nobody do it like Miami does
Bought 20 kilos, coulda bought Miami subs
Let her snort a line so she can get a buzz
She says she want a dime, I told her get a dub
My city one big hospice, I could pull the plug
Them bitches it’s us before we pulling up
Keep it gangster, 20 bottles of Bel-Air
And got all of the dope boy’s hands in the air

[Hook]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

[Verse 2]
I wanna build a mansion in Port-Au-Prince
Speaking creole with all of my Haitian friends
Kilos for the low and Bahamas the (?)
Everything is diamond, can’t cop in a drought
I’m breezing through the beats, shout my nigga Pauchillo
Dave Grubman in the building, toast like the Goodfellas
20 million, baby that’s my water bill
Got Puffy on the phone talking a quarter bill
Piece of honey now I’m talking Taco Bell
Youngest nigga in the US with 100 mil
Ain’t too many hoes I haven’t done for real
Money in my pocket, boy I’m number one for real
Benz running and I’m sitting on the trunk
Rolling up a blunt, getting my dick sucked

[Hook]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

[Verse 3]
I see you fucking up like you a Donald Trump
I cast a vote and get a pussy nigga slumped
I gave my dog a stack, that shit was barely lunch
He got it done and called me back like batter’s up
He hit a bystander which didn’t matter much
And then I ate that pussy like Captain Crunch
We cruising (?) like we was Mexican
When it come to your hustle, exhibit excellence
Step to my clique and you’ll meet the exorcist
If you’re ever in debt then you’ll be the deficit
In the oval office and I’m iced out
Ankle monitor beeping in the white house

[Hook]
Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work