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rick ross - push it rmx lyrics

(verse 1, bun b)
i’m the king of the trill (trill)
and the king of the coca (coca)
my city’s on fire (fire)
and my vida is loca (loca)
bubble kush, i’m a smoker (smoker)
canaries, i’m a croaker (croaker)
tuck on my team and we’ll get you touched like tony toker
yeah, i f-ck with cubano (f-ck with cubano)
and mexicano (and mexicano)
columbiano (columbiano)
even dominicano (uhh)
not to mention bodiquas (‘diquas)
that be servin the geekers (geekers)
stackin that bread while gettin head from the finest of chicas
see i come from port arthur (arthur)
and it’s a port town (town)
where we importin the white and we export brown (brown)
i’ll take all i can get and i’ll get’cha all you can take (take)
we sell it all, from twenty packs, to eight-b-lls, to the shake (shake)
see i’m like an ochoa (‘choa)
rick ross is my pablo (pablo)
all we need is a wrapper (wrapper)
and this team is diablo (‘ablo)
i’m the daddy of dope (dope)
so just call me the padre (padre)
if you don’t like it, chinga tu madre
i push it to the limit

(hook)
i’m pushin it
push
i’m pushin it
push
i’m pushin it
push, i gotta
(push it to the limit)
i’m pushin it
push
i’m pushin it
push
i’m pushin it
push, i gotta
(push it to the limit)

(verse 2, rick ross)
i’m poppin now (poppin now)
it’s the boss (it’s the boss)
we got it poppin now (poppin now)
she done took it off (off)
i’m ballin baby, big bus of bubble kush and i’m gravy
in a grey mercedes movin yay like big guy did in the eighties
i see ya pushin it (pushin it)
know what’cha lookin at
n-gga don’t trip, hollow tips on the tip of that
a million dolla flip, don’t trip, i’mma triple that
rick, triple platinum off the rip and i’mma triple that
i’m in the phantom cause i’m rich (rich)
i’m whippin that
brick in the phantom like a b-tch (b-tch)
i’m pimpin that
you know i’mma shine cause i shine all the time
hundred grand for the watch, for my doggs doin time
you dudes supersticious, dealin with stupid b-tches
i got super models (models)
cookin me cuban dishes (ross)
on the regular, people tappin my cellular
but it’s triple c’s, no seeds, ya’ll regular
see’s no n-gga, these g’s are federal
push it to the limit, young n-gga, what’cha better do
i followed my dreams (dreams)
put god first (god first)
mama said you’ll get rich with a little hard work

(hook)

(verse 3, the game)
pushin that continental (yup)
on the i-10
never been to jail, ask me why
cause i don’t ride rims (nope)
that’ll blow my cover
ohh noooooo
i’m like a midget when dealin’
cause i stay on the low
i stay on that dro
higher than a f-ckin plane
is it a bird?
naw b-tch, it’s the f-ckin game
i thought i’d be on the block
pushin raw forever
cause in ’95 i used to push it like salt n’ pepper
graduated to baking soda
now i’m pushin grams
i was grindin before malice and pusher man
i’m no pusher t
but i got ’em stacked on top of eachother in my grille, like crooked t–th
i push it from m-i-a to c-a
i got ’em on the internet
push ’em on e-bay
every-day, it’s n-ggas like me on the freeway
give it a little gas and (push it to the limit)

- rick ross lyrics

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