Rick Ross — Maybach Music III

[Intro] J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League [Verse 1: T.I.] My garage is flawless, under a hundred thou' ain't allowed Maybach triple white like I'm ridin' in a cloud No denim on my seats, baby, you gon' need a towel Ride sexy through the city, see me, you will be aroused My bankroll so well-endowed Pull bitches from MIA to ATL in style And in crowds, catch me in Tao On the strip in Vegas, chillin', fillin' bitches' faces with babies Bitch, bite your tongue, this just ain't a Mercedes Tell the ATF I'm ridin' with another three-eighty That's my car cost—y'all thought I would fall off? That was just a small loss, we can have a ball-off Fly to NY, meet me at the Waldorf Astorian, architecture Victorian Ridin' in the past like you're drivin' a DeLorean Hard times, never heard of those In the 'Bach, my feet kicked up, gettin' my dick sucked with the curtains closed And for the record, kid, my final question is: "How your bitch gon' feel in that when you two pull up next to this?" Hahahaha! Maybach Music, nigga! [Chorus: Erykah Badu & Jadakiss] Everybody knows How the story goes Money and clothes They gon' come and go But guess who stays the same? (Ha-HA!) You gon' see the name (Ugh, yeah) Stroll real slow (Yo) When the curtains roll [Verse 2: Jadakiss] Yo, piff that I'm blowin' on is fuckin' up the ozone Plus, I keep a dope line, similar to Coldstones (Ugh) Ice cream (Ugh), pipe dreams Is what they have when I pull up in that light thing (Yeah) I put a hurtin' on, I got the curtains drawn Whoever ain't gettin' shitted on, I'm squirtin' on (Ha) I'm in the six-deuce, fifty-sevens for the help (Yeah) Chopper in the trunk, forty-five for the belt (Belt) Bunch of wax dummies, all you guys gonna melt (Melt) Live for your kids (Ugh), die for yourself (Die) Bottles in the sky if you ride for the wealth (Ride) Peas on the block, pies on the shelf If I ain't in the back of the 'Bach, I ain't in nothin' else Haha, I'm somethin' else [Chorus: Erykah Badu] Everybody knows How the story goes Money and clothes They gon' come and go But guess who stays the same? You gon' see the name Stroll real slow [Interlude: Rick Ross] Hunh J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League Ugh Cigar, please [Verse 3: Rick Ross] I came alive like a moth in the summertime (Ugh) Japanese wheel, blades, all samurai Shine brighter than them bitches on the other side Time to make a blind motherfucker recognize Ammunition got the competition nonexistent Had the bubble crack, but didn't have a pot to piss in I'll double that—how dare you try to knock a nigga? Street scholar, graduated, no father figure Still tote chrome, check my chromosomes Meet me halfway with things in a mobile home Money machines, yeah, they rrring! like a mobile phone I'm a 7-Up and need a Coca-Cola loan I'm in the hood like I'm James Evans Cashmere handmade sweater Me and money got a vendetta Lookin' back, to tell the truth, I could've did better (Woo) Parents never had a good job Now it's Black American Express cards [Outro: Rick Ross] Ugh Maybach Music Rozay