[Intro: Rick Ross]
3 passports, 3 first class tickets to the money
Straight flights..
[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I live by the code, wardrobe from round the globe
All I need is a kilo, an 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 bust in em fore she get off (HUH)
I run the city just pull up and drop the kid off
Hah, welcome to organized crime
Money got me excited, I’m coming four or five times
The .45 for you niggas with nine lives
Penthouse on Collins, money long as Ocean drive (ah)
Black Chevy Tahoe’s, Hatians up out the potholes
My place spacious, smoking aces in Lagos
Feds get involved, I’m slipping off into Senegal
Issue 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, there's only one Rozay
{M-M-Maybach Music} My nigga okay
[Refrain]
I got a penny in my pocket (HUH), million in the trunk (HUH)
Started in the back, now we the niggas in the front (WHOO)
Step out on the block all the bitches they still in shock (WHOO)
Get a piece of pussy then take my niggas to shop (HUH)
Pandemonium, causing pandemonium
Half a million for the same car we rolling in (AH)
Pandemonium, pandemonium
We the number one niggas your bitch noticing (HUH)
[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
Rollin', rollin', yeah
Million ways to make this money, you gon' get it
On the grind twenty-four/seven, I’m with it
YSL swagger, wrist wear frigid
Jumping out the Phantom like a muthafucking midget
Money knocking at the front door I’m like, who is it
It’s Benjy, tell my lil nigga go and get it
Cause I’ve been counting all this dirty paper for a minute
Lamborghini dreaming thinking how I’m gon' 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 ho of it
Four for my niggas that be stacking 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
Papi 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 the murdering
Nigga called my phone talking reckless I ain't heard of it
Fuck your 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’ma 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 stunting, got em sick to their stomach, ha
[Refrain]
[Verse 3: Wale]
Just count me in.. yeah
Whole time, see that fly shit I’ve been on
All the girlfriends fall in line from my spin off
That's game bitch, ain't 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 dissappoint 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 ain't worried about
Catch me at tha carry out, mumbo sauce and half and half
Flyest 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, 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 though I know no-one in Congress
These bitches love me all the way, you got sorta’s and kinda’s
Sort of remind you, why you don’t court no vagina
Just give em awesome intercourse and ignore their inquires
Quietly becoming a top tier
You dreamed of getting green, best believe I’m John Deere
Greenist Moncler shit, earth tones in the winter
Purp rolled in a rillo, I am on my John Lithgow
Out of this 3rd Rock, nigga air it out
I am on my Tom Brady y’all niggas is Eric Crouch
What the bloodclot, Tommy Frazier fuck yourself
I can't see your album coming, that shit's like a sucker punch
Head 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
Shitting on these niggas like I need Depends
[Refrain]
{M-M-Maybach Music}
