Artist: Rick Ross Album: Deeper Than Rap Song: Mafia Music Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com [Rick Ross] Yeah... I got a feelin nigga, really that my money be the root Look up at the stars, she like, "Honey, where the roof?" Pull up, hear the dogs, canarie, they goin woof Even once had a job pourin tar up on a roof Dat boy had it hard, no facade, it's the truth So now when I manage and get massaged it's the proof Proof's in the pudding and that baking soda takin Paper that'll make her gotta take them photos naked Listenin to niggaz like whistlin at Wendy Williams I flip my middle finger, I'm chillin on twenty million The rumors turn me on, I'm masturbatin at the top These hoes so excited, so they catchin every drop I'm dodgin debacles like potholes in Jamaica We cut down the weed, bury the paper on the 'maicas Martin had a dream, Bob got high I still do both but somehow I got by Creflo prayed, Mike Vick payed Bobby Brown stray, Whitney lost weight Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write Dat Mayweather +money+ lookin funny in the light But who realy cares? We just throw it in the air Celebratin wealth, pourin Moet in her hair Excuse me, her weave, the blue is for weed Trunk full of white, car smell like blue cheese Dat bwoy get salad, beef bowel movements BM dubs on them big thangs lookin foolish Shawty sittin low, +Big Thangs Poppin+ +Tip+ on the glock from a Crip up in Compton Shootin at the cops, fuck one-time I gave her to the block, I fucked one time We +Boys N the Hood+ and nigga you lil' Tré So press ya appetite, we takin ya lil' tray Love my handgun, but my choppa still the shit Banned in nineteen nintey fo' but I'm "2 Legit 2 Quit" 1996, kilos was the shit but that was better than roofin, that shit be bad fo' ya skin Niggaz was ruthless, Lord knows that I sin But I thought about my future and the loops I could pin Walked out on the gig and I turned to the streets Kept my name low-key, I ain't heard from in weeks I came up wit a strategy to come up mathematically I did it for the city but now EVERYBODY MAD AT ME! Motherfuck 'em all, they sweat from my balls If I drop another album, I did that for my dawgs Ten Maybachs errbody ridin big I just sit back like {LOOK WHAT I DID} Then I bow my head and beg for forgiveness Once I said my prayer, everybody back to business Smokin on a blunt in my own restaurant People lookin from a distance think I'm Big Daddy Kunk Reincarnated, spirit of a G Beef I'll make you dinner, take a seat so we could eat A Farrakhan aura, pause on the pork You eat from the bowl, while your dog need a fork Niggaz ain't loyal, snakes slithered in they coil I'm laughin at you cuz, kill you niggaz when I'm bored (yeah!) We steppin on you +Crew+ 'til them motherfuckers +Crush+ and makin sweet love to every women dat ya lust I love to pay ya bills, can't wait to pay ya rent Curtis Jackson baby mama, I ain't askin for a cent Burn the house down (nigga), you gotta buy another Don’t forget the gas can, jealous stupid motherfucker To another chapter, paper that I captured Caught up in the rapture off gunshots and laughter Homicide is humor and nigga you lookin funny Women love to stare 'cause they know dey see the money I open up her mind by openin bank accounts Deposit a hunnid stacks, break-up, won't take it out Baby that's a gift, maybe you could live I knew it wouldn't work but, I just like to give Used to run the street, young nigga bare feet Now I'm in the suites and I'm eatin crab meats Ice so right, other rappers envy They callin all my jewelers up, askin what he spendin (whaaat?) Thinkin 'bout BOSS, not thinkin bout dem This a letter to my enemies, one I won't send Amen