Rick Ross Lyrics

1. Mafia Music

I got a feelin nigga wit it ? and my money be da root.
Look up at da stars, she like "Honey where da roof?"
Pull up in a Dawes ?, canaries ? dey go on roof,
Even once had a job pourin tar up on da roof.
Dat boy had it hard, no facade it's da truth,
So now when I menage and get massaged it's da proof.
Proof's in da pudding and dat bakin soda taken,
Paper dat I'm makin, gotta take dem photos naked.
Listenin to niggas like whistlin dat Wendy Williams,
I flip my middle finga, I'm chillin on twenty million.
Da rumors turn me on I'm masterbatin at da top,
These hoes so excited so dey catchin every drop.
I'm dodgin debacles like pot holes in Jamaica,
We cut down the weed, bury the paper on dem acres.
Martin had a dream, Bob got high,
I still do both but somehow I got by.

Preflo prayed, Mike Vick payed,
Bobby Brown strayed, Whitney lost weight.
Kimbo Slice on da pad when I write,
Dat may why the money lookin funny in the light.
But who really cares? You just throw it in the air,
Celebratin wealth, pourin Mo











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