Correction Paroles Dead Presidents par Rick Ross

Featuring(s) : Future, Jeezy & Yo Gotti

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Paroles

Rather You Than Me
If you've been fucking with me from Port of Miami
It's been hell of a fucking journey
(M-M-Maybach Music) Ain't nothin' changed, nigga
Lil' stronger, lil' wiser, maybe a lil' more violent
Blame it on America, fuck it (Beat Billionaire)
Huh!

I'm pullin' off the lot, I bought it cash (woah)
Her future bright, don't give a fuck about her past (woah)
Her ass be lookin' good inside the leggings (woah)
But I notice that she missin' all her edges (woah)
I run the game just by runnin' with the felons (woah)
Poor attitude and got rich nigga calisthenics (woah)
Walkin' in the courtroom sippin' on a beverage (woo)
I know the judge so I got a lot of leverage (woo)
Pissin' on these bitches is a fetish (R. Kelly)
Fully loaded .60s smokin' on a seven (all ready)
Your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter (woah)
Still in a box, got him rappin' acapella (woah)
Can't trust no people fuckin' with the reverend (woah)
I got a chopper boy, don't make me be the devil (woah)
He knockin' on the door and know the password (woo)
Gave me his blessings boy, I'm hotter than the last verse (woo)

Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents (now what you want?)
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents (now what you need?)
Let's go to war, yeah, all my lil' niggas militant
Let's go to trial, we guilty 'til proven innocent (now what you want?)
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents (now what you need?)
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents (that's what you want)
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let's go to trial, we guilty 'til proven innocent

I got thirty white bitches like Tommy Lee
I make drug money, nigga, I make blood money
On my third passport and I'm geechie as fuck
I got wet stripper pussy at the airport
I got Bowlingreen dollars on my chopper
Bussin' down a hundred bales in the bathtub
Fuck this Philippine pussy in some house shoes
I got dope money, nigga, I got war wounds
Get to the clutchin' on the hammer, ain't no dance moves
I was posted on the, stoop, hangin' with my Haitians
The murder's on the, news, all front pages
Young niggas catchin' bodies, ain't no relations
I was stackin' Ben Franks and bought some Fiji
They robbed you two times in a row, that's a repeat
You into fuckin' niggas hoes 'cause they easy
I'm in here fuckin' niggas wives, ball breezy
She gotta fuck me like she love me, like she need me
I got my Maybach flooded out with extra TVs
I make a movie every single fuckin' day
I John Travolta when I flaunt that Patek face

Dead presidents (Pluto), dead, d-dead presidents (now what you want?)
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents (now what you need?)
Let's go to war, yeah, all my lil' niggas militant
Let's go to trial, we guilty 'til proven innocent (now what you want?)
Dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents (now what you need?)
Dead presidents, dead them dead presidents (that's what you want)
Fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
Let's go to trial, we guilty 'til proven innocent

Let's go!
Heinz on these niggas, got the yellow bracelet
Check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
Fuck you niggas was when I was ashy, nigga?
Loafers in the chop, I keep it classy, nigga
Build a empire, yeah, that was my state of mind
Motherfuck 'em all, yeah, that was my state of mind
Keep the blocks over there, we call it Legoland
Meanwhile, the kids smokin' like it's Amsterdam
Dope boy pres', you know who got the troops
Sixteen when I bought my first Rollie
Legend in my hood just like I'm Escobar
Never ride dirties in the extra car

Maybach Music

clip

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