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rick ross - soft lyrics

they say i’m comin’ too hard, huh?
i say these n-ggas comin’ too soft
all them n-ggas soft
n-ggas over there are soft

i sold that brick soft
this ysl, so soft
my girl -ss so soft
these louis shoes so soft
you ho n-ggas so soft
my ak for -ssaults
i’m sippin’ this sauce
my d-ck won’t stay soft
my car seats so soft
these heat tags say “boss”
you ho n-ggas so soft
you ho n-ggas so soft

my car seats so soft
your army so soft
real n-gga and she like me ’cause i make sure she get off
these n-ggas claimin’ they winnin’ but when i’m around they lost
i’m in a new car, four door, double r, logo
big rims, no spokes, small tires, low-pro
you p-ssies know that i’m no joke
how you want it? 4-o?
four four for cinco, no ocho, just blow-blow
still duckin’ the po-po
i make her come back like a yo-yo
i’m like ice-t with that white girl, still gettin’ money off coco
still flyer than all y’all, sh-t tell me somethin’ i don’t know
got a bad b-tch bouncin’ on my stick like a pogo, screamin’ yolo
my diamonds be shinin’, like a snow cone, i’m so froze
far as that dough goes i’m russell simmons, you jojo
my type get real cash, your type get k!lled fast
y’all n-ggas like soft booty – get it? real -ss
you ho n-ggas so soft, why don’t you ho n-ggas get lost?
i’ll pay to see you gone, how much is you n-ggas gon’ cost?

right back in the hood, fresh off tour
jumpin’ out that new four-door
bust down apr sh0r-s
all this stuntin’ ain’t called for
none of these b-tches ain’t all yours
none of these n-ggas hardcore
young fly n-gga, i’m fresh, man!
bad b-tch with me at soph0m-re
my rolex is like mayweather’s
i make it rain like may weather
ask them hoes at kod
i don’t throw paper, i spray cheddar
your whip mean? mine way better
chicks they greet and love me
up in the corner and hug me
go all these hoes tryin’ to f-ck me ’cause that leather handle so soft
all i know is go hard
high as f-ck, i’m on mars
my pockets on black card ’cause it ain’t no limit (ain’t no limit)
to the sh-t i’m spendin’ (sh-t i’m spendin’)
it’s double-m-g (double-m-g)
yeah n-gga, we winnin’

i’m in the hood with that white thing…
mister softee
tell them kids don’t run up
got it on me, now get ’em off me
get ’em off me, get ’em off me
before i make it hot like coffee
just seen ’em put a hole-in-one
and i ain’t gon’ let ’em golf me
got a o-z of that loudmouth
my smoke never speak softly
ride on that d-ck flow
my b-tch never go off-beat
only time that i’m off feet
known to stand on my own two
if you ’round me, you gotta go hard
soft n-ggas i don’t do
these n-ggas ain’t family
if you was, i would’ve disowned you
and f-cked b-tches that won’t do
call a b-tch who want to
gotta feel me, my texture
these dumb b-tches too extra
i just kicked this b-tch up off the bus, had to “next” her
i’m too strong in these streets, boy
please don’t make me flex up
you know nothin’ ’bout this
i do this, i’m a expert
dvs go off, like the tvs in my loft
that’s hd on my ht
these ho n-ggas so soft

- rick ross lyrics

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