Maybach Music III

Erykah Badu, Jadakiss, T.I., Rick RossBuy this song

Erykah Badu

Erica Abi Wright (born February 26, 1971), better known by her stage name Erykah Badu /ˈɛrɨkə bɑːˈduː/, is a Grammy Award-winning American singer-songwriter, record producer, activist and actress. Her work includes elements from R&B, hip hop and jazz. She is best known for her role in t… more »

My garage is flawless, under a hundred thou' ain't allowed  Maybach triple white like I'm riding in a cloud 
No denim on my seats, baby you gon' need a towel 
Ride sexy through the city, see me you will be aroused 
My bankroll so well endowed, 
Pull bitches from M-I-A to A-T-L in style 
And in crowds catch me in town, on the strip in Vegas 
Chilling, filling bitches faces with babies  Bitch bite your tongue, this just ain't a Mercedes 
Tell the A.T.F. I'm riding with another 3-80
That's my car cost, y'all thought I would fall off
That was just a small loss, we can have a ball off
Fly to N.Y., meet me at the Waldorf  Historian architecture Victorian  Riding in the past like you're driving a DeLorean 
Hard times, never heard of those in the 'Bach
My feet kicked up, get my dick sucked with the curtains closed
And for the record kid, my final question is
How your bitch gon' feel in that 
When you two pull up next to this?
Ha ha ha ha, Maybach Music nigga!

[Chorus]
 Everybody knows, how the story goes
 Money and the clothes, they gon' come and go
But guess who stays the same? You gon' see my name
 Stroll real slow, with the curtains low

Yo, piff that I'm blowing on is fucking up the ozone 
Plus I keep a dope line similar to Cold Stone's
Ice cream, pipe dreams 
Is what they have when I pull up in that light thing
I put a hurting on, I got the curtains drawn
 Whoever ain't getting shitted on, I'm squirting on
I'm in the six-deuce, fifty-sevens for the health  Chopper in the trunk, .45 for the belt
 Bunch of wax dummies, all you guys gonna melt
Live for your kids, die for yourself  Bottles in the sky if you ride for the wealth 
Peas on the block, pies on the shelf 
If I ain't in the back of the 'Bach, I ain't in nothing else
Haha, I'm something else

 Everybody knows how the story goes
 Money and the clothes, they gon' come and go
But guess who stays the same? 
You gon' see the name
 Stroll real slow

Uh (justice league) 
 Cigar please
I came alive like a moth in the summer time
 Japanese wheel blades all samurai  Shine brighter than them bitches on the other side
Time to make a blind motherfucker recognize  Ammunition got the competition nonexistent
Had to bubble crack but didn't have a pot to piss it
I'll double that, how dare you try to knock a nigga?
 Street scholar, graduated no father figure
 Still tote chrome, check my chromosomes 
Meet me halfway with things and a mobile home
 Money machines, yeah they ring like a mobile phone
I'm a seven-up, I need a coca-cola loan
I'm in the hood like I'm James Evans
 Cashmere hand-made sweater 
Me and money got a vendetta  Looking back, to tell the truth I could've did betta'
 Parents never had a good job
Now it's Black American Express cards, uh

(Maybach Music)

Rozay!

Written by: KEVIN CROWE, ERIK ORTIZ, CLIFFORD HARRIS, WILLIAM ROBERTS, JASON PHILLIPS, ERICA WRIGHT

Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group

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"Maybach Music III Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2017. Web. 27 Jun 2017. <http://www.lyrics.com/lyric/20887456>.

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Maybach Music III