Lyrics Rick Ross

Featuring: Meek Mill & Wale

3 passports, 3 first class tickets to the money
Straight flights

[Rick Ross]
I live by the cold war, drove 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 n*ggas
Standing flat footed, up on my toes
Froze, pandemonium overdose
Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed
Armadillo cigars, killers who like to play golf
Preparing with 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 '45 for you n*ggas with 9 lives
Penthouse on college, money long as ocean drive
Black Chevy Tahoe's, Haitians up out the potholes
My place spacious, smoking aces in Lagos
Feds get involved, I'm slipping off in the synagogue
Issue you your warrant, informant, b*tch I've been a boss
Counting money stacks, your's counter-fitted
I made my money back, when your accountant didn't
Went against the odds, it's only one Rozay
My n*gga okay

I got a penny in my pocket
Million in the trunk
Started in the back, now we the n*ggas in the front
Step out on the block all the b*tches they still in shock
Get a piece of pussy then take my n*ggas to shop
Pandemonium, causing pandemonium
Half a million for the same car we rolling in
Pandemonium, pandemonium
We the number 1 n*ggas your b*tch notice it

[Meek Mill]
Million ways to make this money, you gon get it
On the grind 24/7 I'm with it
YSL swagger, wrist wear frigid
Jumping out the phantom like a muthaf*cking midget
Money knocking at the front door I'm like "who is it?"
It's benjy, tell my lil n*gga "gon' 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 b*tches that be f*cking for the hoe of it
Four for my n*ggas 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 Nickelodian
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
N*gga called my phone talking reckless I ain't heard of it
F*ck 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 f*ck em all, had my n*ggas down so I'm screaming f*ck the law
Monday night wrestling, I'm so f*cking 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 homies Ross I can get that 9 piece
For the low that 9 cheap
Call me if you want it, haters see me
And I'm staying got 'em sick to they stomach


Whole time, see that fly sh*t I've been on
All the girlfriends fall in line from my spin off
That's game b*tch, ain't sh*t, nudies and some j six
Where I'm from, it's cold
And n*ggas get at you like handkerchiefs
God bless you unless you was disrespectful
B*tches disappoint you but money won't ever stress you
They say I'm special as Devin Hester on fourth down
So all that sh*t you n*ggas kicking with worried about
Catch me at the carry out, mumbo sauce and half and half
Flyest n*ggas out here, period no maxi-pad
B*tch I got a right to brag
B*tch I got a right to boast
Presidential suite and b*tch
And I never use my right to vote
My vision enormous, my b*tch's is gorgeous
And I am dead serious, b*tch I spit with embalming
Shout out to Lil G, shout out Tre and Mohammad
That boa sh*t we get paid with death over dishonor
I'm known as Obama's don't I know no-one in congress
These b*tches love me all the way, you got sorta's and kinda's
Sort of remind you, why you don't call no vagina
Just give 'em awesome intercourse and ignore their inquires
Quietly becoming a top ten
You dreamed of getting green, best believe I'm John Deere
Sniff, green is my clear sh*t, earth tones in the winter
Purp rolled in a 'rillo
I am on my John Lithgow
Out of this 3rd rock, n*gga it it out
I am on my Tom Brady y'all n*ggas is Eric Crouch
What the bloodclot, Tommy Frazier f*ck us up
I can see your album coming
That sh*ts like a sucker punch
Here for breakfast, f*ck for lunch
Dinner time she bring a friend
Write my sh*t so vicious
Y'all are like snitches you can't see the pen
Always on some new sh*t CNN
Sh*ttin' on these n*ggas like I need Depend (*adult diapers brand*)