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911
by
Rick Ross
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Lyrics
God forgives, I don't In other words, retaliation is a must! Boom boom boom boom! I bow my head, I pray to God Survival of the fittest: help me hold my chopper lord If I die today, on the highway to heaven Can I let my top down in my 911? In my 911? In my 911? In my 911? In my 911? Financial fanatic, 40 bricks in my attic 400K in my baggage, 80 round automatic You can't stop a bullet, this one for the money Secret indictments, Porsche costs me 200 Fuck all these broke niggas cause all I do is ball Ain't no more off days, my crib look like a mall Fired the stylist, went and bought a big and tall Niggas still schemin', but we slidin' on 'em all I remember pickin' watermelons Now the Porsche cost me a quarter million If I die tonight I know I'm comin' back nigga Reincarnated: big black fat nigga I bow my head, I pray to God Survival of the fittest: help me hold my chopper lord If I die today, on the highway to heaven Can I let my top down in my 911? In my 911? In my 911? In my 911? In my 911? Financial fanatic, 40 bricks in my attic 400K in my baggage, 80 round automatic You can't stop a bullet, this one for the money Secret indictments, Porsche costs me 200 Fuck your investigation, study my elevation Cherry red 911, straight to my destination Mayweather got a fight, make me some reservations Knew I flew private nigga, strapped with no hesitations Gucci Pucci money long, he got 20 cars Graduated from them blocks, now it's stocks and bonds Hoes wanna know, hoes wanna show They know a nigga's name, they know a nigga's strong, fuck with me I bow my head, I pray to God Survival of the fittest: help me hold my chopper lord If I die today, on the highway to heaven Can I let my top down in my 911? In my 911? In my 911? In my 911? In my 911? Financial fanatic, 40 bricks in my attic 400K in my baggage, 80 round automatic You can't stop a bullet, this one for the money Secret indictments, Porsche costs me 200 Fuck your insinuation, work come from Venezuela Love me some skinny bitches, fat boy just 'bout his paper Hustle while niggas gossip, hatin', that switch the topic Jump in my 911, 2 bricks in my compartment She let me smell her pussy I know you smell the money Still smell the gunpowder 911: 100 miles and runnin' I bow my head, I pray to God Survival of the fittest: help me hold my chopper lord If I die today, on the highway to heaven Can I let my top down in my 911? In my 911? In my 911? In my 911? In my 911? Financial fanatic, 40 bricks in my attic 400K in my baggage, 80 round automatic You can't stop a bullet, this one for the money Secret indictments, Porsche costs me 200
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