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Correct Mafia Music Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: R
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Rick Ross
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Correct Mafia Music
Artist:
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Lyrics:
[Verse] 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, Canaries, they gon' woof Even once had a job pourin' tar up on a roof That boy had it hard, no facade, it's the truth So now when I menage and get massaged it's the proof Proof's in the pudding and that baking soda cakin' Paper that I'm makin' got her takin' photos naked Listenin' to niggas 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 paid Bobby Brown straight, Whitney lost weight Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write That Mayweather money lookin' funny in the light But who really cares? We just throw it in the air Celebratin' wealth, pourin' Moet in her hair Excuse me, her weave, the bluest of weed Trunk full of white, car smell like blue cheese That boy get salad, beef bowel movements Bmws 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 Boyz N the Hood and nigga you Lil' Tre Suppress ya appetite, we takin' ya lil' tray Love my handgun, but my choppa still the shit Banned in 1994 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 Niggas 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 everybody 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 Conch Reincarnated, spirit of a G Beef I'll make you thinner, take a seat so we can eat A Farrakhan aura, pause on the pork You eat from the bowl, while your dog need a fork Niggas ain't loyal, snakes slithered in they coil I'm laughin' at you cuz, kill you niggas when I'm bored (yeah!) We steppin' on you crew 'til them motherfuckers crush And makin' sweet love to every women that 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 they see the money I open up her mind by openin' bank accounts Deposit a hundred 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 them This a letter to my enemies, one I won't send Amen
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