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rick ross – love sosa (remix) lyrics

[intro]
we’ll never stop, n-gga
never…
i’m hittin’ that hundred-mil mark on these n-ggas
in the next two years, n-gga
yeah, n-gga…

[verse 1: rick ross]
i say, i’m ridin’ on forges – call them my skaters
you know them bodies is sticky, you can’t get caught up in capers
n-ggas get tricky, you can’t be askin’ for favors
2-2-3 go to l!ckin’, and make your b-tch go into labor
n-ggas hate when you winnin’, you wanna k!ll ‘em, i feel ya
took the top off the car, b-tch, i know my face look familiar
f-ckin’ with my lil’ gangters, we makin’ a k!llin’
when you count your first million you never forget the feelin’
that when my eyes go to twitchin’, palms start to itchin’
n-ggas be snitchin’, that’s when my dogs start trippin’
badda dat da, dadda dat dat dat
black belaire bottle b-tch, you know my pockets fat
oil money gang, double-m on my chain
i just redid the deal, another 20 and change
i step where i please, broke n-gga freeze
cartier bracelet, them swisher sweets in my jeans
i’m a g

[hook: chief keef]
these b-tches love sosa
o end or no end
f-ckin’ with them o boys
you gon’ get f-cked over
‘rari’s & rovers
these hoes love chief sosa
hit him with that cobra
now that boy slumped over
they do it all for sosa
you boys ain’t makin’ no noise
y’all know i’m a grown boy
your clique full of broke boys
god y’all some broke boys
god y’all some broke boys
we gbe dope boys
we got lots of dough, boy

[verse 2: stalley]
still in all gold just like mr. t
rollin’ up that swisher sweet,
box chevy with diamond seats
ridin’ to this diamond d
diamonds in my pinky ring
middle finger to you hatin’ n-ggas
that hate to see a n-gga do his thing
but i’m doin’ me, a million last year
even after doin’ that music matters tour for free
now all i hear is “this year is me”
and i told ross if it ain’t
i’mma clique on and run down on you rappers
and your weak rhymes
i lost struggle because i kept grindin’
man, speak honest – these weak n-ggas can’t compete
i’mma be honest, i’m being modest
freshest n-gga, come check the closets
world tour and them checks deposit
new whips with no mileage
new cribs by cold harbor
bury money in my back yard
while you n-ggas goin’ back and forth

[hook]

- rick ross lyrics

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