[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I’m pulling off the lot, I bought it cash
Her future bright, don’t give a fk about her past
Her ass be looking good inside the leggings
But I notice that she missing all her edges
I run the game just by running with the felons
Poor attitude, and got rich nigga calisthenics
Walking in the courtroom, sipping on a beverage
I know the judge, so I got a lot of leverage
psing on these bches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smoking on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter
Still in a box, got her rapping acapella
Can’t trust no people fking with the reverend
I got a chopper, but don’t make me be the devil
He knocking on the door and know the password
Gave me his blessings, boy I’m hotter than the last verse

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti ]
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead, them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty til’ proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty til’ proven innocent

[Verse 2: Future]
N.C
I got thirty white bches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport, and I’m geechie as fk
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got Bowlingreen dollars on my chopper
Bussing down a hundred bills in the bath tub
fk this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
Get to the clutching on the hammer, ain't no dance moves
I was posted on the stoop, hanging with my Haitians
The murder’s on the news, all front pages
Young niggas catching bodies, ain’t no relations
I was stacking Ben Franks in Labasa, Fiji
They rob you two times in a row, that’s a repeat
And I’m fking niggas hoes cause they easy
I’m in here fking niggas wives, balls breezy
She gotta fk me like she love me, like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded out with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fking day
I John Travolta when I flaunt that Patek face

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti ]
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead, them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty til’ proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty til’ proven innocent

[Verse 3: Jeezy]
Let’s go!
Hands on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
fk you niggas was, when I was ashy nigga
Loafers in the chop, I keep it classy nigga
Build a empire, yeah that’s what my state of mind
Motherfk ‘em all, yeah that’s what my state of mind
Keep the block sober there, we call it Lego land
Meanwhile the kids smoking like it’s Amsterdam
Dope boy prez, you know who got the truths
Sixteen when I bought my first rollie
Legend in my hood just like I’m Escobar
Never ride dirties in the extra car

[Hook: Jeezy & Yo Gotti ]
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead, them dead presidents
They go to war, yeah, all my lil’ niggas militant
Let’s go to trial, we guilty til’ proven innocent
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Dead presidents, dead d-dead presidents
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let’s go to trial, we guilty til’ proven innocent

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
First one on the block, woah, I need mine off the top, uh
Overtown, he got shot, but he died in Opa-locka
Couldn’t save one lung, hit ‘em up, hmm, hmm
See the look on my face (woo!) like Carol City one state
Niggas hate on my sound, ‘til I went the first round
Then I earnt the Lombardi, ain't no fkboys allowed
Only fk if she exclusive, her favorite rapper Lil Boosie
To tell the truth I didn’t ask, when it come to bches I’m Gucci
I’m the wrong one to rob, in the jungle I’m Nas
In the label I’m Russ, in the trap I’m Rick Ross
Double M, Goldman Sachs, just like Omar and Khloe
You can’t dial for the packs, I sent you right back loaded

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
I took my roof off at the red light
I took my roof off at the red light
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Brown bag legend ‘cause it’s all cash
Brown bag legend when it’s all cash
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap

[Verse 2: Young Thug]
I was tryna bet the whole map
Out in Vegas, out the trap
Niggas talkin’ ‘bout raidin’ the trap
Man, I’m ‘bout to go ape in the trap (nigga goin’ ape sht)
Nigga, watch your babies in the trap
Nigga cookin’ oil base in the trap
Young nigga slave in the trap
Nigga run base, base in the trap
I’m ‘bout to get this sht movin’, yeah
Answer the door with the Woolie, yeah
Wrist in the water, I need me a boat
I’m ‘bout to get this sht cruisin’, yeah
Stand at the stove ‘til you’re woozy, woozy
Let’s make a movie, movie, yeah
Move, move, move
bch, I’m richer than Tom Cruise, yeah
So many different meds on me
fk around, call the Fed on me
Chk-chk, boom boom boom your head, homie, reds
Draco got a lot of lead on it, you dead

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
I took my roof off at the red light
I took my roof off at the red light
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Brown bag legend ‘cause it’s all cash
Brown bag legend when it’s all cash
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap

[Verse 3: Wale]
Yeah, Wale though, uh, uh
I ain’t nothin’ like the trap niggas, Goyard backpack nigga
Uber crates ‘til the Feds pull up, woo woo, cataracts, nigga
I’m the type, holla at the wife
Her body yours, but her soul is mine
Adios, do a hundred 20
All she want is good dick and advice
Wraith, scrppin’ my tires, Jameson ‘til I’m fried
Famous here but I’m humble, Double M the Empire
Renzel got me all day, I’m Kyrie, he LeBron James
Tired niggas say Folarin ain’t top
I've been SportsCenter every day
I ain’t nothin’ like them trap guys, I mean I kinda do bag dimes
I kinda never do back down, leave a nigga high via rap lines
Get a beat, leave it baptized, mob ties, but it’s black lives
Black lives, nigga, trap lives, gimme five on the black side

[Chorus: Rick Ross & Young Thug]
I took my roof off at the red light
I took my roof off at the red light
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Brown bag legend ‘cause it’s all cash
Brown bag legend when it’s all cash
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap
Trap, trap, trap, trap, trap, trap

[Verse 1]
Seen a Cuban kilo, I was 15 (huh)
Dealin’ yayo, never had my teeth cleaned
Restricted license but I’m so divisive
I know the snipers and I flow the nicest (woo)
Fresher than Groovey Lew at a Coogi shoot (ahh)
A multiple weapons in my new Gucci boots
The bank account done caught the holy ghost (huh)
I say the bank account done caught the holy ghost
Hot pastrami for my Jewish chicks
Eight days of Christmas, every day a newer gift
I’m Michael Jackson to the rich niggas
That leather jacket, baby, with the 6 zippers
Suicide, or rather crucified (huh)
I prophesize your whole crew demise
Mutulu wife reside in Cuba, nigga
Shoot you, let you bleed out, it’s how they do a nigga

[Interlude]
Huh! Huh!
You niggas don’t believe in God
From this very moment, you should believe in God (uh)

[Verse 2]
Half of my niggas headed to Attica
Either traffickin’ or destined to be a janitor
Diabetes rampant in my blood line
That why fat boy be happy to see the sunshine
I’m here for results, baby, let’s cut to chase
Sticky fingers and paper, D.A. will drop the case (woo)
Art Basel with Lyor I blew 300 with ‘em (huh)
2 seaters for all the soldiers who runnin’ with ‘em (ahh)
Ask 100 women, yeah they wanna hit ‘em
I be half awake and still be runnin’ in ‘em (woo)
Two new liter Sprite to get me through the night
Bowlin’ alley in the basement but we still shootin’ dice (haha)
Rich forever, killa take my old advice (yeah)
Better yet, take my old bches and mold ‘em right (talk)
And if I want her back, I come and take her back (boss)
Santorini Greece, I put it on the map

[Interlude]
Some points you niggas gotta be grateful
Mutulu Shakur
I know your dreads touching the floor, nigga

[Verse 3]
We in the last days, these racist agendas
Blatant double standards because I’m a nigga
Jesse Jackson on them people payroll (fk him)
When you black, lips chapped ‘cause the game cold
I’m givin’ niggas jobs when I sing songs (let’s go)
White man love me when I get my bling on (nigga)
But you hate me buyin’ real estate in foreign land (what)
Respect my genius, all my people Portishead (what)
Room full of cloaks and they countin’ votes
Million man march and I’m takin’ notes (huh)
Made it to the top, you thought they saw a ghost (yeah)
Facin’ tax evasion, niggas sell they soul
So sellin’ dope was the path we chose
And now it’s boats and the Belaire Rose (woo)
Rich niggas in the set and stone (woo)
Neck rocky, Sylvester Stallone (woo)
See me in Capri or them Andes (huh)
Santorini, Greece with a dime piece (huh)
My money long, you know I’m out your reach (nigga)
Only fat nigga joggin’ on the beach (haha)
Versace underwear but see the ass crack (ha)
Oblivious to how rapid my cash stack
I’m a pistol totter, fk I’m votin’ for? (fk ‘em)
If I could, I’d drop a bomb, let’s take ‘em all to war (fk ‘em)
My favorite shorty out of Baltimore (yeah)
Every Chanel you know I bought it for her (I got that)
All the arguments she never called the law
I was never home but hid the money in the walls
Constant visits from the A.T.F
So I copped some cribs in the A.T.L.
Martha Stewart decorated both (ha)
Snoop Dogg donated the smoke

This Chinese arithmetic, and it all add up
It all add up
Big Dog, Big Boss
Huh! Huh!

Wake up in the world and I’m just another nigga
Call it public housing when you next door to the killers
On them corners it gets better as you go
Grind that motherfker ‘till it’s yellow brick road
Free as a bird, spoken word in my verse
On my knees praying, niggas shooting in the church
Wake up out my sleep in another cold sweat
I lived on Billboard, where the fk to go next?
Go against the odds, youngin’ go and get a job
Another country boy they want back on the farm
So far from my goals but I’m close to my kids
Gon’ cry for Mac Dre throwing up the Thizz

I just wanna be the one
I just wanna be the one you love
I just wanna be the one you run to when you’re down
I just wanna, I just wanna fly
I’m a show you tonight
That I’m a put it on you baby
Take you past the sky…

Well let me light one for my problems
Smoking on that loud, pumping up that volume
Get it cracking like an eggshell in this motherfker make omelettes
Get a bad bch that posts up like comments
They don’t know what I been through, don’t know what I’m going through
As long as I get through that’s what I look forward to
Richer than a bch but still I can’t afford to
Let these niggas play with me need to be remorseful
I swear I got that silencer on that Mac 9 and
I kill these niggas with silence
My head stay in the clouds, I really feel like a giant
Can’t trust none of these niggas, I murk one of these niggas
Then bury one of these niggas, still got dirt under my fingers, that
Ain’t a threat that’s a bet cause they coming at my neck
Like the best a man can get
To make a long story short I need a shoulder because the devil on one
The other one I’m looking over
Tunechi…

I just wanna be the one
I just wanna be the one you love
I just wanna be the one you run to when you’re down
I just wanna, I just wanna fly
I’m a show you tonight
That I’m a put it on you baby
Take you past the sky…

Niggas hating like it’s Salt Lake City
No tints on that pretty ass Bentley
Want you to know that them comments don’t offend me
Cause your baby mama so friendly
I proceed with the plan, weed in my hand
Ciroc in my cup, quick pic for a fan
Money over bches, first nigga with a wraith
Double M, we handle business
Cause them niggas getting raped
Go get the yellow tape, it’s well orchestrated
200 acres estates, a young nigga made it
Came from the hood, ain’t nothing changed
Still lemon pepper on my motherfking wings

I just wanna be the one
I just wanna be the one you love
I just wanna be the one you run to when you’re down
I just wanna, I just wanna fly
I’m a show you tonight
That I’m a put it on you baby
Take you past the sky…

Sometimes I ask myself, do thugs cry?