Ft. Rick Ross & Trey Songz
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I got whatever I signed
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You wanna hop in, bitch comin’ on
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Just have to have your mouth wide
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If you know that you plan on coming on
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On for what you..
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And if you think we’re gonna stop
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That’s just absurd
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My little finger’s in the sky
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Screamin’ fuck a hater til the day a nigga die
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Yea, I got ‘em yellin’ “Oh God, Lord”
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Presence fresh, your neck rise, sharp Tom Ford
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Fuck G4s, I charter private Concords
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And she through the sky like missiles when they dodge ball
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Toast them bottles with the booze
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Smell and stink like old money buried in the king’s tomb
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When you think we smell funny, certain niggas wanna watch ‘em
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When it comes to money I’m a nose fragrance, watch the flower blossom
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When it comes to bread, y’all niggas know it’s me
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I articulate beautiful like a poetry
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Hoes bring me that paper just like they all in 3’s
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Chip ‘em a revenue, God bless my rosaries
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Listen , that’s why your witness and your highness
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We’re celebratin’ success and sippin’ on the finest
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Most you motherfuckers need to learn to stand behind us
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When we come and dismantle you niggas quick and leave you spineless
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But that’s for you to dodge us
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I got whatever I signed
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You wanna hop in, bitch comin’ on
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Just have to have your mouth wide
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If you know that you plan on coming on
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On for what you..
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And if you think we’re gonna stop
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That’s just absurd
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My little finger’s in the sky
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Screamin’ fuck a hater til the day a nigga die
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She see me stackin’ cheese in my saggy sheets
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Silver and Sela, smokin’ lavender leaf
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Yellow Jesus piece, I still feed the streets
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I’m getting score, that Ferrari seats
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Riders at the top, get arrogant on ‘em
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Set a bottle off, you can ride if you wanna
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My money mandatory, slippy what deposits look
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Money green, Maserati with a body kit
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Dead presidents, got my name on the blim
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Fast in the residence based on a tip
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Playin innocent, the state attorney want a grip
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I’ve got enough, get with puff, I could make a flip
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Fuck the charge down for me to top the Forbes list
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I’m a fat boy, I but ‘em on that poor shit
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You see that money? I’m touchin’ mine
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It’s Rosay, Trey Songz, Busta Rhymes
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I got whatever I signed
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You wanna hop in, bitch comin’ on
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Just have to have your mouth wide
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If you know that you plan on coming on
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On for what you..
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And if you think we’re gonna stop
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That’s just absurd
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My little finger’s in the sky
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Screamin’ fuck a hater til the day a nigga die
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Hand on my heart while giving thanks and continued bustin’ these bottles open
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Passin’ the time, securin’ lanes, gurkin’ forgot smokin’
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Controllin’ every room when I enter there start toastin’
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Undecided on what to drive, think the garage is open
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As we do the impossible
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It seems successfully manifestin’ a thought and livin’ out the dream
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Leave an unforgettable mark of mud
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I be in it like adding a chapter to the Bible with my blood, listen
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Every day is like a weekend
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Like we never give a fuck, celebratin’ for no reason
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A convoy full of trucks, ain’t no question, we all eatin’
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Then it’s silence when I talk like I’m hearin’ the Lord speakin’ now
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As they complain about my ways
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Cuz I’ll be grindin’, never sleepin’ just be ballin’ on for days
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Be fuckin’ every model, every weed in out the strays
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And then I’m bouncin’ that Bugatti slowly totin’ on the haze
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Then we pass this shit to Trey
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I got whatever I signed
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You wanna hop in, bitch comin’ on
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Just have to have your mouth wide
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If you know that you plan on coming on
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On for what you..
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And if you think we’re gonna stop
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That’s just absurd
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My little finger’s in the sky
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Screamin’ fuck a hater til the day a nigga die
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Til We Die
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| Busta Rhymes |
