[Produced by Bink!]
[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
My corner so polluted, young n***as looting
I studied Kenneth Williams, I'm one hell of a student
Remarkable hustle, my n***as coming home
I kept the candle lit, my n***a never rowed
n***as caught him slipping, gave him a sh** bag
Five shots to the stomach, 2Pac gift pack
It's d**h row, conspiracy theories
Concealed indictments handed to the grand jury
Get some money now, you hated by your own kind
The home invasion done by n***as in your bloodline
GABOS, game ain't based on sympathy
So he put a hit on his cousin and auntie
Her sweet potato pies, oh me, oh my
Showing no remorse, watchin the others cry
Heroin sales, detectives'll sell
A lot of yellow tape, where that Obama care?
This the mob, b**h, silk underwear
Yeezy concerts, Kim Instagrams
n***as hating, though they studied my moves
I'm like Farrakhan, in view of hundreds of Jews
Two attempts on my life, they threatened venues
Can't you see what I am? The hustle continue
I bought more j**els, I ordered the Wraith
I got a new style of shoes, match the watch in the face
Bill Belichick, coaching and calling the shots
Throw a yellow flag, p**y n***a body drops
Then we celebrate, black bottles pop
Time to elevate, we re-open shop
Wale a genius, Meek Mill a superstar
My new crib in Phoenix, ten car garage
Patek Philippe, platinum Audemars
Ain't no tags needed, n***a, I own them cars
I know them b**hes, we met them broads
Never loved one, f**ed them all
I'm a f**ing dog, Ricky f**ing Ross
n***a, Birkin bags just for my runner-ups
But my main b**h she get the main dish
Not the old range, that was a lame b**h
Brazilian weave, she say I came quick
I let her see a hundred ki's, a gift from St. Nick
Moving bricks like it's Black Friday
She gotta f** me or call me a fat crybaby
Looking over my shoulder, I can't trust a soul
Bought a spot in Anguilla just for me and my ho
Glock .40, even when I shower
Chrome .22 in my swimming towel
Mob ties and I pray the music set me free
May the powers that be better let me be
[Hook: Mavado]
Ya better not be around when the sun goes down
And the real, real k**ers them out for ya
It's gonna be be a bloodshed
One buss, one dead, it's gonna be a bloodshed
Gun- gunshot inna head
[Verse 2: Mavado]
Payback is a motherf**er
Yes I feel it when I squeeze the trigger
I feel the air when my enemies die
I feel the strength of ten k**er
What is to be will be
Only God alone can k** me
‘Cause these f**ing streets filthy
And I ain't f**ing guilty
[Verse 3: Sizzla]
Gangsta no take no chat from no guy, know why?
Violate a gangsta and bullets fly, bwoy die
Guns go off, or so we say
Murder, action, anywhere
Gangsta no take no chat from no guy, know why?
Violate a gangsta and bullets fly, bwoy die
Guns go off, or so we say
Murder, action, anywhere
[Hook: Mavado]
[Outro: Sizzla]
Sizzla Kolanji and Rick Ross have the girls them screaming
Entire country, every street lab, you already know the meaning
[?] you can't diss me you must be dreaming
Jamaicans, let them know we carry the team in