Featured In
Top Songs By Rick Ross
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rick Ross
Vocals
Ne-Yo
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ne-Yo
Songwriter
Andrew Harr
Songwriter
Shaffer Smith
Songwriter
William Leonard Roberts II
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Runners
Producer
Eddie Hernandez
Recording Engineer
Jaycen Joshua
Mixing Engineer
Dave Pensado
Mixing Engineer
Giancarlo Lino
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Jeff "Supa Jeff" Villanueva
Recording Engineer
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
[Intro]
To deal with a dude like me, baby, you gotta be the HBIC
The head bitch in charge, callin' all the shots, baby
Can't be scared to gamble
Gotta roll the dice
Feel me? Scared money don't make none
[Verse 1]
Shorty, look, I know my ego lookin' forty foot
Big chain, not talkin' 'bout the naughty look
Mine gaudy 'less I'm goin' for the sporty look
He young and rich and, bitch, that go without an argument
My kicks brown, now I'm lookin' for Rihanna and 'em
Smoke junkie kush funkier than Parliament
What's the problem then? Girl, fuck your 'partment
Move in with me on the beach, now you top ten
You could do the spa (Spa), see a newer car (Ah)
These my feelings and I'm really feelin' who you are (Yes)
Baby light brown (Brown) with the right smile (Ha)
First lady and she ready for the White House
[Chorus]
Baby, you
You shine just like I do
Just like you're supposed to
Everyone knows you're the boss's girl
My diamond
Envy of all your friends
These moves that we're making
Got us on top of the world
You're the boss's girl, oh (I got nothin' but love for you, baby)
Baby, you're the boss's girl, oh (I love to pay your bills, it excites me, you know what I'm talkin' 'bout?)
Said, baby, you're the boss's girl (Real talk)
[Verse 2]
Stretch limousines, tall waterfalls
Valet at the crib, my cars, I love 'em all
Boss lady, she the head bitch in charge
She ask for head first, so she gets it off the top
Champagne pop, rubber band knots
Multi-millionaire, I know that other man not
Let her call the shots, she want me on the top
And the way I want it, it'll be a month before I stop
Kind of walk funny, stumble out the pad
Snap of her finger, **** pickin up her tabs
Walkin' through the mall, got me carryin' her bags
I gotta pause 'cause this motherfucker bad
[Chorus]
Baby, you
You shine just like I do
Just like you're supposed to
Everyone knows you're the boss's girl
My diamond
Envy of all your friends
These moves that we're making
Got us on top of the world
You're the boss's girl, oh (I love you, baby)
Baby, you're the boss's girl, oh (I feel good with me, just sayin', baby, I love you)
Said, baby, you're the boss's girl
[Verse 3]
Cruisin' down Collins, knockin' Trick Daddy
When I'm upset, all my **** trigger happy
Do me a favor, watch your behavior
'Cause I'm insane, send you straight to your savior
Lookin' at my savings, baby, I can save you
Take you parasailin', straight to Jamaica
Your man a batty boy, what the bumbaclot?
You deserve better, six-car garage
Come in late night, so I'm airportin'
As I take fright, I'm your Air Jordan
We the world champs, come and ball with us
Gotta take my time when I put it all in her
[Chorus]
Baby, you
You shine just like I do
Just like you're supposed to
Everyone knows you're the boss's girl
My diamond
Envy of all your friends
These moves that we're making
Got us on top of the world
You're the boss's girl, oh
Baby, you're the boss's girl, oh
Said, baby, you're the boss's girl
Written by: Andrew Harr, Jermaine Jackson, Shaffer Smith, William Roberts