Rick Ross - Clear The Scene lyrics

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Rick Ross - Clear The Scene lyrics

Verse 1 (Lil Wayne) Fresher than a mothaf**in c**aine pusher Got work under the stairs, got the gun in the bushes Anybody want beef, come and meet the butcher Bring the punk out of a n***a like Ashton Kutcher f** you pay me! like nasty hookers I got that recipe they tell me pa** the cook book f**in wit lil weezy baby thats a good look So hop your a** on the good book and sha mon' I ain't really that n***a that you would want to front on I put ya whole life on ya front lawn .. come on Son on that sh** that none on, gun on I can drive the whip and work the tooly while with one arm Thats word to my mom, she worry if I'ma come home I tell her dont trip, I'm runnin this b**h, a n***a just gettin his stunt on Number one stunner junior! hallelujah! f** ya! I wish I never knew ya! PEACE! Chorus (Rick Ross) I got a bird in the bag, and the bag on my back Got a murder warrant in the magazine on my lap Clear the scene! Clear the scene! Clear the scene Let the g's do they thing X2 Verse 2 Ransom My hustle is gettin gully You f**ers will get it from me I touch 'em with every dummy, my duffel is filled wit money You pop your lip and get ya man shot boy! I make 'em lean and rock like Dem Franchise Boyz! You couldn't joust wit me, n***a there ain't no doubt wit me You run your mouth to me, I go hang you over ya balcony They got it out for me, dont gotta spell it out for me Jersey boy, got the whole city that could vouch for me Dont try to play homie ill pull the eighty out, fade ya out Put what you was thinkin on ya lady blouse This a great rookie, ransom, pray for me Take a chance, put this ape on like a bapes hooded I heard 'em all, murk 'em all wit that dirty four Servin raw, till im thirty four, thats a jersey boy Thats weezy f, ransom, grease yes! Hand guns, bland one, go ahead, bleed to d**h Chorus Verse 3 Rick Ross I'ma whip that dope like a n***a 'posed to do Hundred thousand dollar whips when the boat roll through Triple c's, my people we triple g's, while you looking all crooked, my n***as they quick to squeeze! Slap you with the four five, b**h who you rapping bout When it come to weight, when I rick ross max it out I'm the one that they askin bout, in the aston martin, weed sparkin, flickin ashes out Rick Ross will never ask you out When I get your number I'ma come and hunt your f**in mouth You gotta s** dick, if you wanna touch chips ?? 3 5 7 can't touch this I-9 5, I traffic my body weight, in the big body benz, got the whole body laid straight! You straight!? I hope ya a** is I'll leave ya a** as is Chorus