Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rick Ross
Rick Ross
Vocals
Dernst Emile II
Dernst Emile II
Bass
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Byron Forest II
Byron Forest II
Songwriter
Alan Gorrie
Alan Gorrie
Songwriter
Hamish Stuart
Hamish Stuart
Songwriter
Maurice Jordan
Maurice Jordan
Songwriter
William Leonard Roberts II
William Leonard Roberts II
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Black Metaphor
Black Metaphor
Producer
Eddie "eMIX" Hernandez
Eddie "eMIX" Hernandez
Recording Engineer
John Rivers
John Rivers
Recording Engineer
Matthew Testa
Matthew Testa
Engineer
Ben Diehl
Ben Diehl
Engineer
Fabian Marasciullo
Fabian Marasciullo
Mixing Engineer
Stephen McDowell
Stephen McDowell
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Puff Daddy
Puff Daddy
Additional Producer

Lyrics

Y'all niggas know what this is If you don't, I'm finna break it down I just upped my stock, fuck them cops If you love hip-hop bust them shots Your man is priceless, if your man's loyal Better give that man a raise your end up paying for it If you cut it, call it Jam Master Jay No Adidas but I rock a brick a day Talk about the jewels outta nigga reach Nigga please, so I came back with a bigger piece You still smokin' weed on your car chase I'm pullin' off the car lot screaming, "God's great" Before the crib you gotta clear the guard's gate Elevators like Frank's on Scarface New Presidential had that pavé Like a G, I gave the Cartier to Wale Then I gave Meek Mill a Range Rover Told Warner Brothers that the game's over For me to move forward from here on I need 50 I ain't talking 50 Cent neither nigga, haha I came back a rich nigga Young mogul, Bo Jackson, I'm a switch hitter They want me face down on the pavement Gang members claimin' I need to make a payment It's hard for a young black executive Can't you see we're all fucking relatives Relatively easy we can go to war Fuck it, we can go to war Chasing me a hundred million, that's inshallah Fresh up out the Feds system, welcome home Jabar I watch him pray five times a day, nigga Same one that used to moved the yay' nigga AK's in his heyday, nigga Benz coupe, wood frames, low fade, nigga Got the cubans, got the boats, got the zoes, nigga Cocaine worth much more than gold, nigga So what's your goals, nigga? All my shit went gold, nigga I remember smokin' mid grade 'Til I went and got my shit straight I'm spittin' like this bitch a mixtape 'Til they seen a Ghost with a temp plate Sittin' in the trap blowing thick smoke Traffic in my dope, with a thick hoe Feds tore apart the squad, nigga That's why I had to play the part, nigga That wasn't me, it was a job, nigga It gets deeper, that was just a start, nigga Screamin' in my sleep, I know Lord hear me Death to you fuckboys, on my 4th Bentley Gangsta, nigga Rich is gangsta, nigga This is gangsta, nigga Yeah, rich is gangsta, nigga You know where we came from Look where we at
Writer(s): William Leonard Roberts, Maurice Jordan, Byron Keith Forest Ii Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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