Feat French Montana
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[Intro: Rick Ross]
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Walk with a real nigga
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Self made millionaire
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What more could you ask for, huh?
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[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
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I'm a kamikaze in a Maserati
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I'm a John Gotti, got my own army
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Worth fifty million and it's all on me
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Fifty on my Rollie knowin' yours phony
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Last problem I had a nigga head-shot him
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Say, the word on the street is that my man got him
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If I wasn't involved you wouldn't hear about him
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I got Lears and all -- don't need Aaliyah problems
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May she rest her soul, I got a sleeping problem
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All my CDs gold but the Visa darker
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Bastard child but I got a fleet of cars
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Double-M G this little thing of ours
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Take it to the door muthafucka plea
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Niggas layin' on your crib while your momma sleep
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Home cooked meals for the real niggas
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Hot TEC 9 for you little niggas
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Warning shot lift come and boost this
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We run the fucking game nigga truth is
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Cargo pants and my red bottoms
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Talking 'bout birds you know the boy got 'em
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[Hook: French Montana]
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No clothes in the closet, it's all birds
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No sneakers in the sneaker box, it's all birds
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No luggage in the trunk, man, it's all birds
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And I ain't going back -- I'mma ball first
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[Verse 2: French Montana]
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Anything you need know I get it cheap
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My nigga Rozay makes millions while he gettin' sleep
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Cars European come and see the fleet
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Work commercial come and see us if you need the street
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I'mma bring it home nigga bet the bank
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Sierra Leone all up in the link
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'Bout to double up, some Mason Betha shit
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Huddle up, round table, King Arthur shit
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Shorty ass fat she can't stand straight
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Spent your down payment on my landscape
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Niggas sideways like the phantom door
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Hundred round drum sound like round of applause
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Slicker than a can of grease
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Paid the state in the ice, hundred grand a piece
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Coke boy I'll be thirty for sure now
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Coke damn near same price as dope now
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[Hook]
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All Birds
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Rick Ross |