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(performed by Rick Ross) (feat. French Montana) [Intro: Rick Ross] Walk with a real nigga Self-made millionaire What more could you ask for, huh? [Verse 1: Rick Ross] I'm a kamikaze in a Maserati I'm a John Gotti, got my own army Worth fifty million and it's all on me Fifty on my Rollie knowing yours phony Last problem I had, a nigga head-shot him Say the word on the street is that my man got him If I wasn't involved you wouldn't hear about him I got Lears and all - don't need Aaliyah problems May she rest her soul, I got a sleeping problem All my CDs gold but the Visa darker Bastard child but I got a fleet of cars Double-M G this little thing of ours Take it to the door, motherfucker, plea Niggas layin' on your crib while your momma sleep Home-cooked meals for the real niggas Hot Tec 9 for you little niggas Want to shoplift? Come and boost this SongtexteWe run the fucking game, nigga, truth is Cargo pants and my red bottoms Talking 'bout birds you know the boy got 'em [Hook: French Montana] No clothes in the closet, it's all birds No sneakers in the sneaker box, it's all birds No luggage in the trunk, man, it's all birds And I ain't going back - I'm a ball first [Verse 2: French Montana] Anything you need know I get it cheap My nigga Rozay makes millions while he can't sleep Cars European come and see the fleet We're commercial; come and see us if you need the street I'm a bring it home nigga bet the bank Sierra Leone all up in the link 'Bout to double up, some Mason Betha shit Huddle up, round table, King Arthur shit Shorty ass fat, she can't stand straight Spent your down payment on my landscape Niggas sideways like the Phantom door Hundred round drum sound like round of applause Slicker than a can of grease Paid the state in the ice, hundred grand a piece Coke, boy, I'll be thirty for sure now Coke damn near same price as dope now [Hook] Aus Songtexte Mania