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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
[Intro: Rick Ross] This sh*t is highly sophisticated. I just make it look easy, n*gga. Follow me [Verse 1: Rick Ross] I'm so sophisticated To get a verse from me, you gotta be initiated To get a purse from me, she gotta be sophisticated Purchase a whip from me and never miss a single payment I'm from the city where the Muslims even Christians hate it Even the black folk hate to see another n*gga made it Tell all them pussies to chill, champagne refrigerated Just bought a chopper 'cause the last one, got it confiscated Counting a hundred mil so many times, I contemplated You wanna be the hottest but that sh*t get complicated I pull your card, I know you're pussy by your conversation Show you the safe you'll have to kill me for that combination Made another two milli off the compilation I just hit a lick, I'm telling you this sh*t amazing Got a white b*tch, she f*cking me just like she Jamaican Sipping purple and that motherf*cker concentrated This for my n*ggas in them prisons, overpopulated [Hook: Rick Ross] This the mob so you gotta get initiated If you a mob, then you gotta make an issue payment We going hard, run it back just like it's Walter Payton The game sweet, gave all my n*ggas an occupation (Rugh!) We so sophisticated (Rugh!) Sh*t so sophisticated (Whoop!) Money millionaires, guess we made it (Rugh!) [Verse 2: Rick Ross] I'm so sophisticated Smoking weed busting open all the liquor later I bust her open then I tell her I'ma lick her later Pull out the stick and spray that b*tch just like it's activator Time to lay down these n*ggas that be masquerading We know you pussies, so you got my n*ggas masturbating Round of applause 'cause them choppers be so captivating So sophisticated 'cause them hits be calculated Put yo d*ck in the dirt, now you decapitated I'm getting money so you'll never hear me talking petty Tatted on my stomach, rich forever, Makaveli Fifty million, hundred million, it's accumulating I'm the hottest and these other n*ggas cooling, ain't it I got a b*tch I'm f*cking that you see on BET My lil' Haiti shooters will have yo ass on TMZ Breaking news and we still get them for ten a key And if he faking, f*ck him, tell them n*ggas "C'est la vie" [Hook] [Verse 3: Meek Mill] Sh*tting on these haters, ball hard D Waiters Ever since I got money, e'rybody need favors That's why I ain't got no homies, and I ain't got no neighbors But I be on my grind like I ain't got no paper But I'm so rich and I got yo b*tch All in my whip and she all on my dick With a hand on my stick, tryna live in my crib 'Cause I handle my sh*t like a candle got lit 'Cause I burn sh*t down, yea I'm in my bag And these n*ggas so mad it's my turn now And I get that cash and my b*tch so bad, she know sophisticated I'm balling hard, f*cking b*tches and ain't got sh*t for haters I hang my arm out the window now watch me get the paper My neck so frosty, you frauding, yo sh*t refrigerator Boy you an imitator You ain't got no M's in yo account, I never ask my amount Treat that bad b*tch like a bad check 'cause I cash that and I bounce I ain't never had sh*t but I grab sh*t and I cashed out on that ounce And I flipped that to a bird and bounced back like word [Hook] |