Artist: Rick Ross Album: Port of Miami Song: Blow Typed by: Renay_72315@yahoo.com [Intro: Rick Ross] Ricky Ross Carol City Cartel Cool & Dre [Chorus: Rick Ross] + (Dre) Designer jeans and a hand full of dough (Yeah) Bottle of that rosey, pass me some mo' I got, mo' cars, mo' cars, mo' clothes, mo' clothes Mo' money means more dough to blow (Bloooowwww) Mo' bottles, there's more dough to blow (Bloooowwww) Rick Ross got a lot of dough to blow [Verse 1: Rick Ross] Way up in them Tailie Hills, burnin' like the sunset A nigga wit' a attitude, take it outta' context Ridin' with the big thangs, lookin' like a bomb threat Bin Laden beard, Afghan in a bomb vest Ross, stranded on death row Makavali's on the Maybach, kicks retro She wanna gaze at the stars Pull a panoramic view, Pull the haze out the jar Rick Ross, I'm the best in the flesh Gettin' blessed on a jet is a way to reflect Hard work pays off, I'm a boss, you can tell By the bottles in the pail, and the models that we share I'm in a real estate, in a realer state of mind We came for trigga' play, kill a nigga for a dime I'm tryna' chill today, I got a million on my mind Dice in my hand, one roll, I blow ya mind [Chorus: Rick Ross] + (Dre) Designer jeans and a hand full of dough (Yeah) Bottle of that rosey, pass me some mo' I got, mo' cars, mo' cars, mo' clothes, mo' clothes Mo' money means more dough to blow (Bloooowwww) Mo' bottles, there's more dough to blow (Bloooowwww) Rick Ross got a lot of dough to blow [Verse 2: Rick Ross] Mo' trips, mo' whips, mo' money, I'm mo' rich Mo' haters, mo' clips, mo' jewels, mo' shit Half a hundred grand in some rubberbands Gats all flashed in my other hand On the other hand, I'm still pitching underhand All soft balls off, bitch a stunna man Mo' trucks, mo' bucks, mo' freaks, mo' butts I see the vision, for club vision, the pre face I get brain, I bust nuts, in each states Soon as I see what I'm lookin' for I sit up in that seat and cut em' off on them 24's There it goes, baby girl come talk wit' tha' boss I pop a rose bottles, you can kick ya shoes off [Chorus: Rick Ross (Dre)] Designer jeans and a hand full of dough (Yeah) Bottle of that rosey, pass me some mo' I got, mo' cars, mo' cars, mo' clothes, mo' clothes Mo' money means more dough to blow (Bloooowwww) Mo' bottles, there's more dough to blow (Bloooowwww) Rick Ross got a lot of dough to blow [Verse 3: Rick Ross] Ever seen a fat boy in a big body Know you wanna see about me, all you do is think bout it Lease apartments to get kicked out it Next day, buy a condo to get a kick out it We don't take it for the view, this is what I do When I'm on the beach, all my diamonds salt water blue So let's party like the pack jam, Pacman Fifty grand, stacked in my lap man Get a lap dance, and if you get my dick hard This ya last chance, to up up on that big car Wit' tha Fat Man, certified Hood Star But he a millionaire, look bitch you going far This the movement, a few niggaz' you wanna move wit' Gucci on my feet, see I'm only in the new shit Ha, they say life's a bitch But close ya eyes for a minute, and just bite this dick, it's Ross [Chorus 2X: Rick Ross] + (Dre) Designer jeans and a hand full of dough (Yeah) Bottle of that rosey, pass me some mo' I got, mo' cars, mo' cars, mo' clothes, mo' clothes Mo' money means more dough to blow (Bloooowwww) Mo' bottles, there's more dough to blow (Bloooowwww) Rick Ross got a lot of dough to blow