Rick Ross
Ali Bomaye
[Intro: The Game]
Get my people out them chains, n***a
I mean handcuffs, time to man up
Put my hands up? Fuck you sayin', bruh?
'Cause I'm a black man in a Phantom
Or is it 'cause my windows tinted?
Car cost 300 thou' and I blow Indo in it (2 Chainz!)
You mad 'cause your daughter fuck with me on spring break
Well, I'ma fuck her till the springs break

[Verse 1: 2 Chainz]
Yeah, roll another one 'cause I'm winnin'
In my four-door, lookin' real photogenic
Gentleman attire, in threads that won't expire
I'm in a class of my own, my teacher got fired
Money gettin' long, pussy rate keep risin'
Versace outfit cost me 3,000
From the P houses, did it from the wee hours
Sellin' that chicken; no lemon pepper, no sweet and sour
First you get the power, then you get respect
I'm gettin' so much money I can buy your bitch
Take it how you wanna, if you wanna take it
I like clubs where all the women workin' naked
Fell in love with a waitress—what the fuck I'm thinkin'?
Bought that ho a ring, it was for her pinky
Uhn, that's pimpin', that's slick
Got a bottle of cologne that cost more than your rent
[Verse 2: The Game]
Fuck y'all mad at me for? Got a black card and a black Phantom
With a white bitch in Idaho, I do the same thing in (Montana)
Got a thick bitch in Atlanta, got a redbone in the Chi
Got two chains, they two-tone, two hundred racks, no lie

[Chorus 1: The Game]
Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
I'm 'bout to rumble in the jungle in these new Kanye's
Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
My lawyer threw them gloves on and beat another case

[Verse 3: The Game]
Fuck y'all mad at me for, 'cause my belt got two G's on it?
Her bag got two C's on it? My daughter's stroller got D's on it?
Free Big Meech, free Boosie and C-Murder
Like New Orleans, like Baltimore, come to Compton you'll see murders
And my AR see murders, that's beef, n***a; no burgers
I'm insane and you Usain, n***a better turn on them burners
Got coke swimmin' in that glass jar, bitch, go turn on them burners!
Got dope to sell in this hotel, no half price, no retail
You a bitch n***a; no female, I smack n***as; Sprewell
I'm on the block like D12, I got the white; no D-12
Like a little n***a in Africa, I was born totin' that K
And that's real shit, no Will Smith and no Nona Gaye
But they yellin'…
[Chorus 2: The Game]
Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
Thank God that a n***a seen another day
Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
Got a chopper and a bottle—fuck it, let 'em spray!

[Verse 4: Rick Ross]
I take my case to trial, hire the Dream Team
Robbie Kardashian, Johnnie Cochran; I seen things
I dream big, I think sharp
Inhale smoke, Hawaiian tree bark
Humble yourself, you not a G, keep it one with yourself
Run to n***as for help, favors I keep one on the shelf
I got rifles with lasers, swing it just like the majors
Hit you right above navel
Now you swimmin' in pavement
Gold medals on my neck, I call it Michael Phelps
Hoes settlin' for less, I call 'em bottom shelf
N***as tough on them blogs and never did nothin' at all
On the road to the riches, bitches not taggin' along

[Verse 5: The Game]
Unless it's ass in a thong, hit that ass and I'm gone
Disrespect my n***a Boss and I'm flashin' the chrome
I'm wavin' the TEC, Tity sprayin' the MAC
Extendos in the back, gonna lap
I got a bitch that look like Laila Ali sittin' in my lap
Got a call from Skateboard, pick 'em up at LAX
Speakin' skateboards, where Tune at? Fuck with him
I'll break a skateboard on a n***a back, 2 Chainz!
[Verse 6: 2 Chainz]
Skateboard on a n***a track
No lie, "No Lie" already got a plaque
Mama got a house, daughter got accounts
Just to think a n***a like me started with a ounce
Bad bitches and D-boys, we bring 'em out
If them n***as pussy, we douche 'em, we clean 'em out
This the voice of ghetto intelligence. If you got work
Go to work, don't work at your residence

[Verse 7: The Game]
…For presidents
Word to Muhammad, that triple beam is heaven-sent
Ridin' through the jungles in that mothafuckin' elephant
That's a gray Ghost, with the ears on it
Swimmin' through the hood like it got fins on it (Tell 'em!)
You know I got that work on the foreman grill
Weigh the mothafuckas in, made another mil
Got a n***a feelin' like Cassius Clay
Thrilla in Manilla, n***a want it, whip his ass today

[Chorus 2: The Game]
Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
Thank God that a n***a seen another day
Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
Got a chopper and a bottle—fuck it, let 'em spray!

[Outro: Kevin Hart]
Ay, n***a guess what I just picked up?
N***a, talk to yo n***a
Ay, my fuckin' Jesus piece! (Woo)
Ay, ay, ay n***a, n***a look at ya boy! Look at ya boy!
Ay n***a look, look real quick, real quick, look at Jesus eyes doe
N***a they got diamonds in it! N***a iced out!
N***a iced out Jesus face on these bitches n***a
Ay don’t ever question my religion i just put 50 stacks on Jesus face out here n***a. You see it, ay ay ay real quick, real quick, look at his headband (Ooh)
N***a, N***a look it! Look at ya boy n***a
Ay n***a I put the fuckin' rubies around a n***a fuckin' joint n***a
Yo chill here come Kanye, shut up don’t
Let me turn my piece around