[Rick Ross] I wake up excited, I made it through the night Things I did in the dark, will it ever see the light? My nerves should be a wreck, I got a bad chick She keeps me erect, she loves my ad-libs I think I'm a genius hundred grand a fuckin feature I do at least three a week, roll up the fuckin reefer Went from Benihana to Bimini in Bahamas Ten chains, no luggage, I'm a big timer Niggaz claim that they thuggin when they dickridin My niggaz rather walk, do they own brick climbin On the block in my all white sneakers Lord knows in my ten Jesus pieces Pray for me cause you know a nigga doingwrong My homey in the cell, so I had to write a poem Count mills for the times that we had it hard Asking for a hundred mill' as I pray to God [Chorus] I do this for my niggaz facin hard times Can't be on them corners if you hustle part time Ten chains on, Eric B. with mob ties Rakim flows, coming from the Pharcyde Blood diamonds and my piece is from apartheid Quick to quote a prayer, pull it from the archives I pray for every soul that this music reaches Bury me a G - ten Jesus pieces [Rick Ross] Young nigga comin up they wanna gun you down Drinkin vodka in the memory of my nigga, damn (I miss you Peanut) Ridin real slow on them all golds (we had them nigga) Shoppin for them O's when the mall close Reppin for your homies when they all gone Get in power then you put your dawg on (real shit) All black tees, ten gold chains At the Super Bowl, but we in the dope game {*laughing*} Ten years strong in the same trap Ugh~! Ten years blowin on that strong pack Lord knows that I wanna live right (right) But Lord knows what that Club Liv like (right) Forty dollar tab meanin forty grand Lil' wodie got it rolled up in a rubber band Holdin on the forty in his other hand Ten chains on, smokin in the motherland [Chorus] [Rick Ross] I'm his poltergeist, niggaz know I'm more than nice All these jewels on, all boys tonight I could see it in the sparkle cause they lackluster Black card maxed out, damn black brother White collar, black-minded Chrome Smith & Wesson, back pocket Eight shot, bitch I'm a top shotta Screamin your affiliations, but that don't matter I'm flyin first class as the snakes slither Never blackmail a motherfuckin killer On trial and they wanna execute me It's really sad, just the fact they never knew me True G to the core, feel my texture A true G keeps it raw in his lecture Keep it simple, white tee, new sneakers Dope boy style, ten Jesus pieces [Chorus] [Stalley] Versace shirt, Jesus layin on the chest Man I swear Big did it the best, I mean Nas did it fresh and, Jay did it fresh, I mean 'Ye did it fresh, but man Big did it the best And I was so impressed that I went and got ten Now I'm stunting on these niggaz cause I couldn't back in Rose gold, yellow gold, a couple platinum And I wear 'em all at once, I ain't tryin to match them I remember bumping Mack 10 and that deuce in the corner Scrapin up for a sandwich and a soda Now my strength is up and I'm danglin chains off my shoulders But no Jesus piece on mine, cause at times I feel ashamed for the reason that I rhyme; and they say cause I'm Muslim I shouldn't think about the shine or even put it in a rhyme It's better things I could talk about or put my money towards
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