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rick ross - world's finest lyrics

[intro: rick ross]
tonight the night, one night only
already sold out
this what you’ve been askin’ for
double m, meek milly, rozay!

[verse 1: rick ross]
all the whips got rims on ’em
my b-tch posts pics, no filters
ritz carlton parking sticker, six figures
i pray for them b-tches who don’t feel us, huh? huh?
rooftop hellipad, i can sit it down
gold diggers in dubai, i get around
d-boys in opa-locka still get it down
black curvy dress, i let her zip it down
spin around, lick around, hit it
black wolves in sheep clothes and mink coats
petite broads, unique broads with deep throats
puerto ricans with cocaina on speedboats
f-ck obamacare, i want a kilo, huh? huh?
i keep a stick in the rolls royce
you never know, ridin’ with your old boy
my cigar lit up like i’m suge knight
put a bullet in a bully, nigga, good night

[chorus: kevin cossom]
yeah baby, show you all the finer things
cuban links and diamond rings
you know you’ve got designer dreams
(get it, get money)
everything’s expensive, nothing’s too good
champagne with the movie stars
black maybach in my garage
rolexes and audemars
everything’s expensive, nothing’s too good

[verse 2: rick ross]
i’m talkin’ slick with a big d-ck
food stamp recipient in a big benz
we in the party and we 40 deep
80 b-tches wanna f-ck these 40 gs
nigga bottle tab 40 gs
we gettin’ money with detroit players
my west coast homies touchin’ much paper
east coast niggas got the city hot
count a half a milli, do the diddy bop
i keep my city posted to the top
dirty south niggas frontin’ 50 blocks
niggas k!llin’ b-tches over -ss shots
dc niggas even k!llin’ cops
all my real niggas just seein’ guap

[verse 3: meek mill]
this should be the real nigga grammys, where we buy rollies
and treat ’em like trophies, you’ll never understand me
you ain’t come where i come from, niggas on xannys
mommy on crack, how we gon’ feed the family?
might as well start sellin’ it, everybody inhalin’ it
young, black and intelligent, what they should’ve been tellin’ us
but they was jailin’ us, lockin’ us in a cell with a stranger
so they could raise us and wonder why we rebellious, up
niggas goin’ through pain
i ain’t show up to school ’cause i was goin’ through things
now i’m gettin’ this money, feel like i’m goin’ through change
niggas drivin’ me crazy, they do it all for this fame
f-ck niggas, f-ck b-tches, they all phony
when i was broke, they wasn’t ’round and they all on me
two maybachs in that billion yard, homie
dropped a couple mil’ in the crib like a mall, homie, what’s up?

- rick ross lyrics

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