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rick ross - burn lyrics

aye boy, where you at?
n-gg- you a dead man if you stay right there my n-gg-
it’s gonna be a heavy flick coming that way my n-gg-
trust me my n-gg-
them people coming and they coming with them drums n-gg-
get the f-ck outta there my n-gg-
save yourself my n-gg-
this sh-t getting real tricky out here on these streets
i told you first my n-gg-
it’s problems over there, get the f-ck around now

if it ain’t about dreams and nightmares n-gg- it ain’t about nothing
october 30
meek millie what it do?
philly what it do?
so god forgives, you on the road to platinum n-gg-

sitting on some cali weed, i think it’s time to burn
pull up in some sh-t, to put it in dro you gotta learn
cocaine cowboys, you better wait your turn
michael’s on leon money, come and get it on the curve
these n-gg- wanna hate, that’s why they get what they deserve
we only dealin what we have, livin and we learn
no more j’s on the porch, days that we were poor
amazed by mama boy, b-mpin maze in the porsche
bulletproof vest suburban, they hatin you when you earn it
b-tches be rollin in it, they say i’m so photogenic
every night is a feast, n-gg-s be having beef
i teach me a young boy, call him my chief keef
truders be with extort, go to war over jordans
but you know i’m in these, kidnappin over them keys
but you know i’m in these, kidnappin over them keys

n-gg-s wanna try, what they gonna say?
i hit the pedal til that motherf-cker break
celebrate, freaky b-tches loving money i make
and to live like this you motherf-ckers gotta pay

so let that sh-t burn (burn! )
let that sh-t burn (burn! )
i’mma let that sh-t burn
let that sh-t burn (burn! )
the roof on fire, i’m only getting higher
50 racks all in my pocket, hold no bottles
i’mma let that sh-t burn
let that sh-t burn (burn! )
i’mma let that sh-t burn
let that sh-t burn (burn! )
the roof on fire, i’m only getting higher
50 racks all in my pocket, hold no bottles

hammer on the dresser, work on the stove
i’m sitting on the counter blowing purp out my nose
red bone naked, in the bed flexin’
i say b-tch i ain’t impressed you must of got the wrong impression
i ain’t with the bs, i’m flyer than pf
man, we living in h-ll like a deep breath
real n-gg-s with real money, real b-tches with fake -sses
if she don’t wanna f-ck i get on my skateboard and i skate p-ssed her
money on the table, guns on the table
b-tch i’m on that syrup tell that ho leggo my eggo
and my girlfriend is a choppa, i finger f-ck that ho
h-llo i am tunechi: you had me at h-llo
drop top maybach, clean like ajax
man i don’t f-ck with none of you n-gg-s like rednecks
we got that work so come and get if we don’t know you, you pay tax
i put a hole in your apple what that is apple jacks, uh
p-ssy n-gg- i’ll murder you then dance at your funeral
blood i’ll have a n-gg- drinking his own blood communion
wake up like bone thugs i’ll call your bluff pick the phone up
her t-tties fake but they look real cubic: zirconia’s
run up in your house spare the kids and kill the grown ups
your b-tch call me when she hot: krispy kreme donuts
shoutout to my new hoes, shoutout to my old hoes
i still wear that -ss out like a wardrobe
b-tch, what they gonna say?
still eating rappers on my f-cking lunch break
bad yellow b-tch with a tongue like a snake
i let her suck my d-ck then i f-ck her to some drake

and then i let that kush burn let that kush burn
yeah i let that kush burn
smoking gasoline b-tch
the booth on fire i’m in here getting higher
young money b-tch we at the top like barbwire

chained all vf, i ain’t with the bf
catch me in the city ridin hard through the bf
skinny n-gg- but i do it large like a 3f
the last n-gg- try it…

- rick ross lyrics

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