All Birds
Lyrics Rick Ross

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Walk with a real n*gga
Self-made millionaire
What more could you ask for, huh?

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I'm a kamikaze in a Maserati
I'm a John Gotti, got my own army
Worth fifty million and it's all on me
Fifty on my Rollie knowing yours phony
Last problem I had, a n*gga head-shot him
Say the word on the street is that my man got him
If I wasn't involved you wouldn't hear about him
I got Lears and all - don't need Aaliyah problems
May she rest her soul, I got a sleeping problem
All my CDs gold but the Visa darker
Bastard child but I got a fleet of cars
Double-M G this little thing of ours
Take it to the door, motherf*cker, plea
N*ggas layin' on your crib while your momma sleep
Home-cooked meals for the real n*ggas
Hot Tec 9 for you little n*ggas
Want to shoplift? Come and boost this
We run the f*cking game, n*gga, truth is
Cargo pants and my red bottoms
Talking 'bout birds you know the boy got 'em

[Hook: French Montana]
No clothes in the closet, it's all birds
No sneakers in the sneaker box, it's all birds
No luggage in the trunk, man, it's all birds
And I ain't going back - I'ma ball first

[Verse 2: French Montana]
Anything you need know I get it cheap
My n*gga Rozay makes millions while he can't sleep
Cars European come and see the fleet
We're commercial; come and see us if you need the street
I'ma bring it home n*gga bet the bank
Sierra Leone all up in the link
'Bout to double up, some Mason Betha sh*t
Huddle up, round table, King Arthur sh*t
Shorty ass fat, she can't stand straight
Spent your down payment on my landscape
N*ggas sideways like the Phantom door
Hundred round drum sound like round of applause
Slicker than a can of grease
Paid the state in the ice, hundred grand a piece
Coke, boy, I'll be thirty for sure now
Coke damn near same price as dope now

[Hook]