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Rick Ross

William Leonard Roberts II (born January 28, 1976), better known by his stage name Rick Ross (often stylized as RICK RO$$), is an American rapper. Ross founded the record label Maybach Music Group, on which he released his studio albums Deeper Than Rap (2009) and Teflon Don (2010). Ross was also the first artist signed to Diddy's management company Ciroc Entertainment. In early 2012, MTV named Ross as the Hottest MC In The Game. more »


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Three passports, Three first class tickets to the money 
Straight flights 

I live by the cold war 
Drove from round the globe 
All I need is a kilo, a apron, show me the stove 
General electric, perfected, cooking them O's 
No more peanut butter sandwiches, now we looking at loaves 
Hoes, I need a condom for my toast, busting in these niggas 
Standing flat footed, I'm on my toes 
Froze, pandemonium overdose 
Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed 
Armadillo cigars, killers who like to play golf 
Heroin transactions, with Russian shots of the Smirnoff 
Playing for keeps I buss in 'em 'fore she get off 
I run the city just pull up and drop the kid off 
Welcome to organized crime 
Money got me excited, I'm coming four or five times 
The forty five for you niggas with nine lives 
Penthouse on college, money long as Ocean drive 
Black Chevy Tahoe's, Hatians up out the pothole 
My place spacious, smoking aces in Lagos 
Feds get involved, I'm slipping off in the synagogue 
Issue you your warrant, informant, bitch I've been a boss 
Counting money stacks, yours counter-fitted 
I made my money back, when your accountant didn't 
Went against the odds, its only one Rozay 
My nigga OKAY 

I got a penny in my pocket 
Million in the trunk 
Started in the back, now we the niggas in the front 
Step out on the block all the bitches they still in shock 
Get a piece of pussy then take my niggas to shop 
Pandemonium, causing pandemonium 
Half a million for the same car we rolling in 
Pandemonium, pandemonium 
We the number one niggas your bitch notice it 
Million ways to make this money, you gon get it 
On the grind twenty four I'm with it 
YSL swagger, wrist wear frigid 
Jumping out the Phantom like a motherfucking midget 
Money knocking at the front door I'm like "who is it?" 
It's Benjy, tell my lil nigga "goin get it" 
Cause I've been counting all this dirty paper for a minute 
Lamborghini dreaming thinking how I'm spend it 
I'm like one's for the money, two's for the show of it 
Three's for the bitches that be fucking for the hoe of it 
Four for my niggas that be stacking it and then blowing it 
You would think I had a curfew the way I'm going in 
Look at what we rolling in, causing pandemonium 
Probly got them keys in, he like my custodian 
I was tryna bag a brick you was Nickelodeon 
I was in them trenches getting down and dirty serving it 
We's part the reason that them Churches got some services 
The morgue could afford just cause we was doing murdering 
Nigga called my phone talking reckless I aint heard of it 
Fuck ya girl, give her back I'm courteous 
I can keep a secret with Vicky have a menage with Nicki
And be out London with Lauren and telling Megan Good morning 
Catch me rolling with Kelly or at the Hilton with Paris 
From Hollywood to the hood, I want a mom and I swear that I want em all 
Wanna fuck em all 
Had my niggas down so I'm screaming fuck the law 
Monday night wrestling, I'm so fucking raw 
She gon wipe me down, I'm gon brush her off 
I'm way harder than the concrete 
I say what my mind speak 
Word to the homie Ross I can get that nine Piece 
For the low that nine cheap 
Call me if you want it, haters see me 
And I'm stuntin' got 'em sick to they stomach 


Whole time, see that fly shit I've been on 
All the girlfriends fall in line from my spin off 
That's game bitch aint shit 
Nudies and some J six 
Where I'm from it's cold 
And niggas get at you like handkerchiefs 
God bless you unless you was disrespectful 
Bitches disappoint you but money won't ever stress you 
They say I'm special as Devin Hester on fourth down 
So all that shit you niggas kicking we aint worried about 
Catch me at tha carry out, mumbo sauce and half and half 
Fliest niggas out here, period no maxi-pad 
Bitch I got a right to brag 
Bitch I got a right to boast 
Presidential suite and bitch 
And I never use my right to vote 
My vision enormous, my bitches is gorgeous 
And I am dead serious, bitch I spit with embalming 
Shout out to lil g, shout out Tre and Mohammad 
That boa shit we get paid with death over dishonor 
I'm known as Obama's don't I know no-one in congress 
These bitches love me all the way, u got sorta's and kinda's 
Sort of remind you, why you don't call no vagina 
Just give em awesome intercourse and ignore there inquires 
Quietly becoming a top ten 
You dreamed of getting cream, best believe I'm John Deere 
Green as mont-clair shit, earth tones in the winter 
Purp rolled in a rillow 
I am on my John Lithgow 
Out of this Third Rock, nigga it it out 
I am on my Tom Brady y'all niggas is Eric Crouch 
What the bloodclot, Tommy Frazier fuck yourself 
I can see your album coming 
That shits like a sucker punch 
Here for breakfast, fuck for lunch 
Dinner time she bring a friend 
Write my shit so vicious 
Y'all are like snitches you can't see the pen 
Always on some new shit CNN 
Shittin on these niggas like I need a pen 


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

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"Pandemonium Lyrics." STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 24 Jun 2019. <>.

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