B.M.F. (Blowin' Money Fast) Ft. Styles P (Produced By Lex Luger)
I think I'm Big Meech, Larry Hoover Whippin' work, hallelujah One nation under God Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
I think I'm Big Meech, Larry Hoover Getting work, hallelujah One nation under God Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
My Rolls-Royce triple black, I'm getcha ho Balling in the club, bottles like I'm Ichiro Rosé, that's my nickname Cocaine running in my big vein
Self-made, you just affiliated I built it ground up, you bought it renovated Talkin' plenty capers, nothing's been authenticated Funny you claimin' the same bitch that I'm penetratin'
Hold the bottles up, where my comrades? Where the fucking felons, where my dogs at? Uh, I got that Archie Bunker And it's so white I just might charge you double
I think I'm Big Meech, Larry Hoover Whippin' work, hallelujah One nation under God Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
I think I'm Big Meech, Larry Hoover Getting work, hallelujah One nation under God Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
These motherfuckers mad that I'm icy Stunt so hard make 'em come indict me I think I'm Big Meech, look at my timepiece It's an Audemar, hundred wrecks at least
Look at yourself now look at me You can't see a nigga, I'm what you used to be Look at it this way, you niggas sideways Always getting money, my nigga, crime pays
So fuck a nigga, I'm self-made You a sucka nigga, I'm self-paid This for my broke niggas, this for my rich niggas Got a hundred on the head of a snitch nigga
I think I'm Big Meech, Larry Hoover Whippin' work, hallelujah One nation under God Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
I think I'm Big Meech, Larry Hoover Getting work, hallelujah One nation under God Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
36 holes leave you bleedin' family Words in them thirty-six o's in the kilogram Blunt tip, armors like caviar Wild and out, fish-tailin' Subaru, rally car
Out the passenger, lead in the automatic For egg or that girl, I knock your mommy and daddy off Fuck around and knock the emblem off the Caddy off Four-shooters buggin' out, blickin' at your Caddy doors
And did I mention? Gun from Red Dead Redemption Nine mils, fifty clip extensions Hope it's like a mattress in the hood, I'm flippin' on it And the money's like a chair, I'm sittin' on it
I think I'm Big Meech, Larry Hoover Whippin' work, hallelujah One nation under God Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
I think I'm Big Meech, Larry Hoover Getting work, hallelujah One nation under God Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
Read more: RICK ROSS - B.M.F LYRICS http://www.metrolyrics.com/bmf-lyrics-rick-ross.html#ixzz13KhzCMKQ Copied from MetroLyrics.com