rick ross Lyrics

Yeah, hoe pop an x, yeah that bitch is a geeker

Took her to burger king 'cause that shit cheaper

Test all my diamonds and that shit blow out the meter

Bitch put my dick to her mouth

Made my meat hurt

Beat up that pussy, that shit like a heater

She got twenty bodies, to you she a keeper

Step on that bitch like a motherfuckin' sneaker

Pockets fat like Rick Ross

Pull up with sticks like we playin' lacrosse

Buy what I want I don't care bout the cost

I pull out them racks and she droppin' her draws

You can hear the exhaust

I got the juice, yeah the motherfuckin' sauce

And you late to the wave, nigga damn it's your lost

If you play with them chos then we taking you off

Doot doot

Put a hole in a nigga like a fruit loop

This a trackhawk lil nigga, not a coupe coupe

I don't talk nigga, I just boop boop

Clean him up, poop scoop

These niggas be green just like Hulu

Yeah, I call up my dog just like roo-roo

Tie her hair up, she look just like New new

Grip on my dick, and she feel on my six pack

We took his watch, need to go get your wrist back

All of my diamonds biracial, they mix-match

Shot him down, now his mom callin' the dispatch

Bend over lil bitch, let me hit that

Wockiana my cup, you can't sip that

Designer garments all on me, I'm in that

See an opp on the corner, I bend that

Whole lot of shots, yeah I send that

Riding round in that U with a new glockiana

Yeah, you start a sentence I end that

My partners from hell, they gon' pull you down under

You act like a kid, you get kidnapped

Brand new kd and I ball like the Thunder

I'm done with your hoe, take your bitch back

That boy was not gang, pussy you was a runner

Hoe pop an x, yeah that bitch is a geeker

Took her to burger king 'cause that shit cheaper

Test all my diamonds and that shit blow out the meter

Bitch put my dick to her mouth

Made my meat hurt

Beat up that pussy, that shit like a heater

She got twenty bodies, to you she a keeper

Step on that bitch like a motherfuckin' sneaker

Pockets fat like Rick Ross

Pull up with sticks like we playin' lacrosse

Buy what I want I don't care bout the cost

I pull out them racks and she droppin' her draws

You can hear the exhaust

I got the juice, yeah the motherfuckin' sauce

And you late to the wave, nigga damn it's your lost

If you play with them chos then we taking you off