Lyrics:
rapper, ya that's on god
We're big dogs, no Rick Ross, get criss crossed
Elevated to another level, on god
I don't stop, I got no ceiling like a drop top
My
dollar residence
Rick Ross, big chips, AKs, flip clips
Off set rims on a rear six-inch lips
Started on the benches, rose through the trenches
Now I'm
It's my time (Rick Ross)
It's my time (Finna' lay back on this shit man)
(Dade County dope boy)
I'm not a slim thug, I'm a fat mack
I don't
background]
DJ Khaled!
When I ride, I ride for Trey-0-5
Trick Daddy! (When I ride, I ride for Trey-0-5)
Rick Ross!
Pitbull!
The Bottom!
Listen
meet the boss of the cartel.
[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
I'm a seven-nine satan, sitting on Lorenzzes.
And I seem really patient, picture the equation.
some "Send them hoes out!" niggaz!
Your Niggaz!
Be some tricking "Don't pay them hoes!" ass niggaz!
My Niggaz!
Be some Don Juan pimpin' ass niggaz!
[Chorus]
I took my bitch to lennox mall I call it tricking off
50 bricks just crossed the state, I call it getting across
Gucci, rick ross
Trina, Rick Ross, Hot Box..
I got a, fat pussy for a cocksucker
I got a, hideout for a cop ducker
I got a, condo for a baller nigga
I got a,
fatter
Yeah they fatter than Rick Ross
And I swipe, swipe, swipe
Could give a fuck about the cost
Look alive
I push that foot to drive
I'm vrooming past
go
Whether thats right I will never know(ugh but here goes nothin)
[Verse 2 - Rick Ross]
When Im alone in my room sometimes I stare at the walls
Rick Ross: Trilla
Bird-man: brrrr!
[Webbie]
The 'lil soldier wit nothin' clear to see wasn't nobody handin' him shit
Ridin' round town glamor
but no rick Ross
But I can never love no thot
I can never love no thot
Woke up this morning
Last night I was faded
Shawty calls my phone and I look
boss
Fuck Joss, he's no hoss
I hate his guts and I hope that he never pushes through
Fuck Joss, he has no sauce
Fuck Joss, tryna be Rick Ross
He has
Rick Ross
Go to jail pod boss
Paint away bob Ross
Yes I smoke no recollection
Trump is out next election
Only fat mid section
I am smart intellection
dollar residence
Rick Ross, big chips, AKs, flip clips
Off set rims on a rear six-inch lips
Started on the benches, rose through the trenches
Now I'm
Rick Ross: Trilla
Bird-man: brrrr!
[Webbie]
The 'lil soldier wit nothin' clear to see wasn't nobody handin' him shit
Ridin' round town glamor
bussin
Run up Onna squah, might load choppa at ya muffin
Need dat cash I need dat sack no rick Ross I need two maybachs
Hold dat rock don't trip don't
either way you gon' be mine
Tell your ex to suck a dick I know he pissed off
Pockets gettin fat in these Amiris call them Rick Ross
I swear I wanna kiss
Boys tryna floss, act you tough shit like motherfucking Rick Ross
We all know you ain't the boss, work in an office, bow down to the labels
ear
That at two you would like to hear
Kriss Kross and Rick Ross at 2am
Jump around and get down to Here I Am
Face down and back up till the morning
I stay on my boss shii like Rick Ross shii
Gotta stack that Guap up until it a wrap
Money, older than B.I.G and Pac
I ain't going trip when I'm
Savage the way I floss
No Rick Ross, I stack my chips
Jeans to be a boss
No Kris Kross
Imma be a rich bitch
( Verse 2 )
Yeah, uh
I’m so
Okay They say I make a stick talk
Got em pissed off
Eddie James bitch I'm big dog
Eating Rick Ross
I got bands in a duffle
Heard the feds got tipped
grind, no flip flop
When they see me they say I'm headed for the tip top
Hey, hey
I feel like Rick Ross
I ain't heavyset but I promise I'm a big boss
When
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