Rick Ross - Miami lyrics

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Rick Ross - Miami lyrics

[Intro: DJ Khaled] Yeah we gettin' money n***a We gettin' money n***a We the best It's DJ Khaled doing that Big dog Pit Bull, Terror Squad and Yo Gotti Rick Ross (Ross) Listen... [Hook with Rick Ross ad-libs] Take me to Miami tonight I-I-I-I wanna party in Miami tonight [Verse 1: Yo Gotti] Ross, yeah tell me what a hundred cost A hundred on the watch, a hundred on the cross Hundred thousand dollar car, now that's a whip Hundred bullets in the clip, bout to let it rip Hundred on the vacation, now that's a trip I'm down there f**in' with them Haitians, I'm bout to flip A hundred thousand of them pills, a half a mill A hundred thousand on the tab, that'll get'cha k**ed A hundred hundreds, young'n he'll get'cha done In north Memphis we be posted with a hundred guns Yo Gotti, Triple Cs stamped on everyone I'm back and forth to M-I-A tryin' to cop a ton [Hook x2] [Verse 2: Rick Ross] Yo Gotti, n***a, tell me what the lick read Sixteen look at me blowin' big weed Seventeen, I stumbled across my first key Eighteen grand blowed in the first week On that street sh** yeah that's what we eat with Turn a half to a whole, sell his a** the remix I get chickens in flocks, get the Benz in the box I get plenty of shots just if he big and he box I supply the supplier, get you higher and higher Half a brick for the rims, that's just to admire Yo Gotti my n***a, when you need 'em I send 'em I'm in debt with the Lord, at least a couple million, Ross [Hook x2] [Verse 3: Yo Gotti] I ain't sold a million records or won a Grammy But I seen a million dollars worth of nose candy Miami, that's the home of the cheap price Where you can ball and re-up in the same night Watchin' Cocaine Cowboys like this the sh** f** a rap career I'd rather have a hundred bricks Cuz this real money right here, right now I'd be two and a half platinum right now On my way, goin' on a c**aine tour Alabama, Atlanta, Memphis clean up to Detroit Only a and our gat hold a hundred rounds So you can play if you wanna n***a it's goin' down And I don't need a manager cuz I don't trust a soul One day five birds sold just like the show Count my own paperwork, make my own decisions Executive produce my whole album off of movin' chicks [Hook x2]