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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rick Ross
Vocals
Eric Hall
Saxophone
LaDerrick Perry "TheChemist"
Piano
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
William Leonard Roberts II
Songwriter
Roosevelt Harrell III
Songwriter
John Parker
Songwriter
Judy Bailey
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bink!
Producer
Thomas "Tomcat" Bennett, Jr.
Recording Engineer
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Sometimes I be wanting to say
Fuck the world!
I don't give a fuck!
Shoot it out with all you bitches
Bitches don't love me
Young black ****
**** fightin' the world, ****!
Everywhere you go
Bitches throwin' rocks ****!
Man, a **** in a Lamborghini
[Verse 2]
Seen a Cuban kilo, I was fifteen, huh
Dealin' yayo, never had my teeth cleaned
Restricted license, but I'm so divisive
I know the snipers and I flow the nicest (Woo!)
Fresher than Groovy Lou at a Coogi shoot (Ha!)
A multiple weapons in my new Gucci boots
The bank account done caught the Holy Ghost (Hwugh!)
I say the bank account done caught the Holy Ghost!
[Verse 3]
Woo!
Hot pastrami for my Jewish chicks
Eight days of Christmas, every day, a newer gift
I'm Michael Jackson to the rich ****
That leather jacket, baby, with the six zippers
Suicide, or rather, crucified (Uh)
I prophesize your whole crew demise
Mutulu wife reside in Cuba ****
Shoot you, let you bleed out
That's how they do it, ****
[Verse 4]
Hwugh!
Hwugh!
These **** don't believe in God
From this very moment you should believe in God
[Verse 5]
Half of my **** headed to Attica
Either trafficking, or destined to be a janitor
Diabetes rampant in my bloodline
That why fat boy be happy to see the sunshine
I'm here for results, baby, let's cut to chase
Sticky fingers and paper, DA'll drop the case (Woo!)
Art Basel with Lyor, I blew three hundred with him (Hwugh!)
Two-seaters for all the soldiers who runnin' with him
Ask a hundred women, yeah, they wanna hit 'em
I be half awake and still be runnin' in 'em
Two new liter Sprite to get me through the night
Bowling alley in the basement, but we still shootin' dice (Ha ha!)
Rich Forever, killer, take my old advice (Yeah!)
Better yet, take my old bitches and mold 'em right
And if I want her back, I come and take her back (Boss!)
Santorini, Greece, I put it on the map
Woo!
[Verse 6]
At some point, you **** gotta be grateful
Matulu Shakur, I know your dreads touchin' the floor, ****
[Verse 7]
We in the last days, these racist agendas
Blatant double standards because I'm a ****
Jesse Jackson on them people payroll (Fuck 'em)
When you black, lips chapped, 'cause the game cold
I'm givin' **** jobs when I sing songs
White man love me when I get my bling on (****)
But you hate me buyin' real estate in foreign land (What?)
Respect my genius, all my people Portishead (What?)
Room full of cloaks and they countin' votes
Millionaire marchin', I'm takin' notes
Made it to the top, you thought they saw a ghost (Yeah!)
Facin' tax evasion, **** sell they soul
So sellin' dope was the path we chose
And now it's boats and the Bel Air Rose (Woo!)
Rich **** in the set and stone (Woo!)
Neck rocky, Sylvester Stallone
Woo!
[Verse 8]
See me in Capri or them Andes (Hwugh!)
Santorini, Greece, what a dime piece (Hwugh!)
My money long, you know I'm out your reach (****)
Only fat **** joggin' on the beach (Ha ha!)
Versace underwear, but see the asscrack
Oblivious to how rapid my cash stack
I'm a pistol toter, fuck I'm votin' for? (Fuck 'em)
If I could, I'd drop a bomb
Let's take 'em all to war (Fuck 'em)
My favorite shorty outta Baltimore (Yeah)
Every Chanel, you know I bought it for her (I got that)
All the arguments, she never called the law
I was never home, but hid the money in the walls
Constant visits from the ATF
So I copped some cribs in the ATL
Martha Stewart decorated both
Snoop Dogg donated the smoke
Woo!
[Verse 9]
This Chinese arithmetic
And it all add up
It all add up
Big dog
Big Boss
Written by: John Parker, Judy Bailey, Kevin Roosevelt Moore II, Roosevelt Harrell III, William Leonard Roberts II