The Hit Factory Criteria, Miami, FL - So Sophisticated lyrics

[Intro: Rick Ross] This sh** is highly sophisticated I just make it look easy, n***a 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 m**ms even Christians hate it Even the black folk hate to see another n***a 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 contemplate it You wanna be the hottest but that sh** get complicated I pull your card, I know you're p**y by your conversation Show you the safe you'll have to k** me for that combination Made another two milli just off the compilation I just hit a lick, I'm telling you this sh** amazing Got a white b**h, she f**ing me just like she Jamaican Sipping purple and that motherf**er concentrated This for my n***as in them prisons, overpopulated [Hook: Rick Ross] This the mob so you gotta get initiated If you a mark, then you gotta make initial payment We going hard, run it back just like it's Walter Payton The game sweet, gave all my n***as an occupation (Rugh!) We so sophisticated (Ugh!) sh** so sophisticated (Woo!) Hundred millionaires, b**h we made it (Ugh!) [Verse 2: Rick Ross] I'm so sophisticated Smoking weed, busting open Dom and liquor later I bust her open then I tell her I'mma lick her later Pull out the stick and spray that b**h just like it's activator Time to lay down these n***as who still be masquerading We know you pussies, so you got my n***as masturbating Round of applause ‘cause them choppers be so captivating So sophisticated ‘cause them hits be calculated Put yo dick 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 (Babyyy) Fifty million, hundred million, it's accumulating I'm the hottest and these other n***as cooling, ain't it I got a b**h I'm f**ing that you see on BET My Lil' Haiti shooters will have yo a** on TMZ Breaking news and we still get them for ten a key And if he faking, f** him, tell them n***as “C'est la vie” [Hook] [Verse 3: Meek Mill] sh**ting 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**h 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** like a candle got lit ‘Cause I burn sh** down, yeah I'm in my bag And these n***as so mad it's my turn now And I get that cash and my b**h so bad, she so sophisticated I'm balling hard, f**ing b**hes and ain't got sh** for haters I hang my arm out the window now watch me get the paper My neck so frosty, you frauding, yo sh** refrigerator Boy you an imitator You ain't got no M's in yo account, I never ask my amount Treat that bad b**h like a bad check ‘cause I cash that and I bounce I ain't never had sh** but I grab sh** and I cashed out on that ounce And I flipped that to a bird and bounced back like word [Hook]