Rick Ross - I'm Good Remix lyrics

[Hook] You can find me in the streets, even in the drought My mattress is full Why shouldn't I be out Hey buddy, I'm good (what they tell you?) I'm good (what they tell you?) I'm good (what she tell you?) I'm good (what you see?) Two hundred dolla jeans with my favorite patch Pullin up my ride hell yea the rims match! What they tell you? I'm good (what they tell you?) I'm good (what they tell you?) I'm good (what she tell you?) I'm good (what you see?) [Verse: Pusha T] The indictment's unsealed, all the lawyers paid To my players getting money, you our serenade In that German Nazi, them Italian Mobsters Talking Benzes and Ferraris if you couldn't follow They say I'm underrated, I say that's overstated I couldn't tell, I thought a kilo meant I finally made it Then came 10, 20 came quick Walked out the kitchen, face white as Taylor Swift's Me and my Louis loafers, maybe my Gucci Vans Beach bum kinda mortgage kicking through the sand Styling on em (censored), can't fade the brothers GI Joe, wrap my body on that Complex cover Automatic starting, frames Chrome Heartin' AMG kitted, roof is on a milk carton, yeah! This is the life, fever gone but you could still get right cause I'm good! [Hook] [Verse: Rick Ross] Ross! Never sit so it's caviar carryout Extended clip in the fog, ya gotta air it out He's so flamboyant, put a fan on him I'm a blade chopper, black Land Rover Know I'm looking good, got on too much ice Open the sunroof, I'm living once twice Know my sneakers suede Of course my reefer great, I got it off illegal aid I'm flyer than a eagle lane I don't need a belt, damnit cause the money fit I don't even tie my shoes I know I'mma trip I'm a stunna tho, Murcielago on money gold You put her out, I put her onto my bungalow I'm looking good, I'm feeling better I made Forbes 6 point M letter Yeah Yeah Yeah Boss! [Hook] [Verse: Malice] Yo! Mo' money mo' problems, that's what Big said But we ain't care, we was all about that quick bread Buying bags for every (censored) I misled F430 got them caught up in the spider web Before we met, baby girl was into simple tastes Til' I put her on that jet, told her pick a place Cartier wristwear, let her pick a face Daddy money falling out the sky like it's ticker tape But this is give and take, you can't call it tricking As long as the car is not the kids tuition Louis V, double G, read the inscription Sitting on Santa's lap, every day is Christmas Haters keep your distance, waving the four fever A twinkle of the eye, smoke em like Cohibas So here's to senoritas in them superficial love affairs Million dollar crib, and it's laid like baby hairs [Hook] [Outro] I'm looking good, I'm looking good I'm looking good, I'm looking good Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah