Billion Dollar Nation ft. Rick Ross Lyrics

I'm a real villain

Still a legend, you're just a little Krillin

Making money, niggas still dealin'

Everything funded, we make a living'

Can see the envy in your eyes

Don't feel no pity, your money's a lie

Ice on my neck color change with the light

Attracted to your bitch, I hit it real nice

Stop dealing with all of you weak niggas, ain't strong enough to come speak with us

Ain't bout money, we defensive, throw a Hail Mary with these heat seekers

Countin' up racks on racks

Bitch wanna ride with a pack on facts

She sit in my lap with a strap, don't act

Little Asian chick, put your ass on blast

Better remember my name

Better be cautious, I'm still devil with aim

100 million on game

Don't make me call your bluff, better get the fuck out my face

I don't take no blame

Still countin' money, I'ma raise the stakes

Fuck your opinion, gotta do what it takes

Gotta make a billion off all you snakes

I hope you niggas get your squad up

STRT_TRUBLE, nigga, get you locked up

Got a couple niggas puttin' glocks up

Startin' drama, nigga, get you fucked up

Best to lay down

Don't worry, I'ma get my pay now

We do shit you only talk about

Don't talk shit to get you found out

100 stacks on the watch, 100 blocks on the dot

Ricky Ross, new whip, tennis shoes in the socks

I'm up in Secret City, yeah, that boy got the lean

You better hit the phone, them bricks sellin' like ringtones

I'm steppin' out fresh, I'm steppin' out clean

My nigga Young Mob, the boy in DPC

When I'm up in the D, we gon' stunt like a dog

My niggas drop out of school, but we subject to ball

Don't worry about the crackers, cause the crackers ain't sharp

How I'm lookin' in the phantom, bitch, you know that I'm the mob

See the grill in the front, might get the feel in the front

Fuck how you feelin', Ricky Ross, I get a million a month

I'm so mob, so mob, how I get it so mob

Pullin' up to the trap, fresh off a blowjob

Yeah, them thousand dollar jeans, pussy nigga, tell that

If you waitin' on the side, boy, just hit my cell back

Stop dealing with all of you weak niggas, ain't strong enough to come speak with us

Ain't bout money, we defensive, throw a Hail Mary with these heat seekers

Countin' up racks on racks

Bitch wanna ride with a pack on facts

She sit in my lap with a strap, don't act

Little Asian chick, put your ass on blast

I'm so mob, so mob, how I get it so mob

Pullin' up to the trap, fresh off a blowjob

Yeah, them thousand dollar jeans, pussy nigga, tell that

If you waitin' on the side, boy, just hit my cell back