Murda Mami - Rick Ross feat Foxy Brown & Magazeen
[Intro]
Yeah! Pussies don't get p_ssy
Brooklyn (uh-huh)
[Rick Ross]
Kinda short, dark-skinned, she a fly lil' b_tch
Be up in all them clubs spillin Dom P and sh_t
Know the boy stunt, Jonathan Kelsey clutch
Yves Saint Laurent fronts on her bags to the pumps
D's love her aura, Balenciago fedora
Lame n_ggaz bore her, struttin like she Kimora
She'll take a kilo and stuff it up in the coochie
Quicker than Ron[?], stash it between her coochie (ha ha)
Breeze through the hood, n_ggaz treat her like a O.G.
First b_tch in the hood, with the Bentley Coupe GT (yes)
Brooklyn is the team, Alexander McQueen
Bustin down a bird and balance it with a beam
Five five, slanted eyes, b_tch walk is mean
Mahushi Ron bracelets and Armani jeans
They're called skinny, my b_tch is like a rasta with it
Black car, red bottoms, only mobster in it
[Chorus 2X: Foxy Brown]
It's like damn, b_tch, n_ggaz lovin me now
Oh-nine Bonnie & Clyde doin it now - whoa
Murder murder, these b_tches ain't never heard of
Gettin money, gettin hurt up, impatient to leak them burners[?]
[Foxy Brown]
Aiyyo Ross, send them b_tches to the boss
The blood claat flyest bad b_tch in New York
Y'all hoes better bow the f_ck down and pay homage
I'm ten million sold and that's SoundScan knowledge
And all y'all rat b_tches sound garbage
While me and Ross like the hood version of bombings
Bars give me style like when you steppin in my [?]
The 38 special in my Chanel sock
Now I got the llama and Ermet's dark
Word to sly swifter fox [?] who above me?
[?] say hello in pumps, Nickelus Curt with that bomb
So ladies raise your glass to this man song
[Chorus]
[Rick Ross]
Money ain't a thing, just look at my pinkie rings
So many numbers in the bank, sh_t could never be the same
Tall four Velours, withdrawals by Michael Kors
And I watch a pretty penny I'm talkin hundred or more
My critique for 'leet, not for the cheap
And my money in the street way longer than my receipt
Dealin with the money, no (Monie) all (In The Middle)
I'm dealin with [?] opponents, they gettin riddled
Box n_ggaz up, on the ropes
Louis sneakers, Louis luggage, the colognes and soaks
Smellin like money, my body tatted with hundreds
Oh-nine Bonnie Clyde, gotta live with it like uh
[Chorus]
comments
share this page
