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rick ross – pots and pans lyrics

(feat. j-rock)

[intro]
this whudd i’m talkin’ bout right here
ross
just make da sh-t work a while, my n-gg-
triple c’s

[j-rock]
all i need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
lil’ ice up what i can
chick at home sayin’ i’m no good
f-ck dat i’m gettin’ outta hood
all i need is bakin soda, some pots and pans
lil’ ice up what i can
chick at home sayin’ i’m no good
f-ck dat i’m gettin’ outta hood

[verse 1]
what started as a nickel rock
took 22 months, now i’m trynna git a block
f-ck football i’m goin’ down anotha path
couldn’t p-ss da test, to tell da truth
i couldn’t f-ck with math
i did git a shcolaship, but i blew dat
got high, got a ticket and i flew back
to da h-ll zone, most straps stand 20 sh-ll toes
git life on ya cell phone
quarta ki box of soda, ross whip dat
career criminal fo’ sho’, ross with dat
had to pull my pants up
boi git ’em brands up
daddy got some cancer, i neva had da chance ta
tell him all my plans ta, let em’ f-ck a danca
smokin’ weed in amsta-dam, with his grandson (d-mn)
why he p-ssed on me (on me)
my last hommie (hommie)
i went and bought a bird (f-ck)
i want some cash hommie

[verse 2]
i neva wrote a n-gg- coat tail
made her took a dope sell
f-ck it n-gg-, o wells
smokin’ on dat cl-ssified
rollin’ in dat lac’ of mine
know my mind stay numb to da world half da time
thinkin’ bout land rover, d-mn near was f-cked up
found him in da trunk with anotha dude, f-cked up
da world f-cked up, dat’s why i’m f-cked up
don’t git f-cked up, f-ck with me – you f-cked up
b-tch i’ma ride (ride), b-tch i’ma die (die)
when i holla 3-0-5, b-tch – dat’s on my life
got a 40 in da car, a choppa in da crib
the grenades down da street, you gotta git it how you live (triple c’s)
i know n-gg-s turn 1 into 2 and they do what they do
and boi ’em thangs move
fishscale git da big mail
in da room full of work
in case they came when they inhale

[verse 3]
it’s time fo’ me to cash in, laughin’
like martin in aston, martin
when i park it, i can see ya b-tch heart-beat
so roll out da red carpet, roll up da purple sh-t
black navigator flew
gotta shut ya f-ckin’ mouth, don’t ever take da smooth
thinkin’ of a greata way, to build a greata flow
i hope she got some great head, dat’s how i grade a ho’
white beamer in da hood shinin’ like a star
look this half a ki go to da club and i’ma buy da bar
do it twice a week f-ckin’ b-tches on da otha nites
promise e-cl-ss we’ll neva miss anotha fight
hundred in da bag 5 birds i’ma grab
turn em’ into 8, keep me a clean half
bakin soda in da work works wonderful
you see ya dreams come true cuz i’m da truth

- rick ross lyrics

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