|
Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
[Hook: Rick Ross] Poof! There go the car Poof! There go the crib Poof! A hundred mil, David Copperfield David Copperfield, David Copperfield [Verse 1: Meek Mill] Could you knock that ho, could you blame that b*tch? Cause she wanna roll with a real n*gga like me that's gon' slang that dick Like coke to a fiend, f*ck throat on the lean Take low on the Perc, now that ho on a bean Still money over these hoes Got YSL on my clothes And blood drip on my sneakers N*gga, you hating on me - she chose And I ain't f*ck your girl she rode My stick-shift she drove Did everything that she 'posed to I pulled my camera out and she posed And I was like, got that Drop that, pop that Got the top back on the dropback, I'm back And the Glock at where the crotch at, I'm strapped All the rocks at where the watch at, stop that Could you cop that? Not that I'm light send the mob at, dimesack I'm catching on contact Got racks, y'all n*ggas ain't 'bout that, 'bout that life! [Hook] [Verse 2: Meek Mill] Poof! N*gga f*ck your life F*ck your n*ggas and f*ck your wife (F*ck 'em!) Got two bad b*tches with a n*gga And you know they gon' f*ck all night (Right) And I rock hard white N*gga rich game pride I'll pull up on whores and I'm sitting on fours, in a big boy drop Call big boy shots, all clear stones in my big boy watch All year long, got the strip on lock Every time we in this b*tch, man, sh*t gon' pop My hip on Glock, your hip on nothing My n*ggas got racks, y'all n*ggas be fronting Red Cartier, redbone b*tch Red bottoms on her, hair long as sh*t (Hold up) Yellow gold Ro', yellow bone ho And yellow bottles of Spades, n*gga Whole clique self made, n*gga [Hook] |