Rick Ross - Red Bottom Boss lyrics

[Hook: Rick Ross] It's the red bottom boss, came to buy the bar Every bi-week, sh**, I'm bound to buy a car Murder-cedes Benz or that bubble double R Headlights flicking, looking like a falling star [Verse 1: Game] I'm 'bout to tear this f**ing track out Pretend that it's Keri Hilson and blow her f**ing back out 22nd mixtape, half of 'em diss tapes But f** who I was dissing cause I never made a mistake Bleek got what he deserved, Jay, I might have been tripping I was falling, I was slipping, he was Jordan, I thought I was Pippen He was winning, I was losing, he threw a jab, I start bruising So I threw in the towel just to separate all confusion Ivy Blue is beautiful, me saying that's unusual That's just the father in me, don't think I'm trying to be cool with you Thug life, Rihanna knuckles, Gucci shirt, designer buckles Louis Vuitton billboard, the n***as that's just trying to hustle Poster boy for them drug dealers, I just want y'all to love me But I ain't the Feds, so I ain't really trying to bug n***as Y'all the Verizon man, I'm just gon' stand behind y'all But every now and then, I gotta remind y'all [Hook] [Verse 2: Game] It's that red bottom boss, n***a Burgundy Bentley truck, who give a f** what it cost n***a That V12 start up like Ross n***a That's why them hoes call me the boss n***a Catch me in the Maybach where them seats recline way back Remember, I had a Rocky for ya, I ain't talking ASAP Know I got that K strap, chopper with the base hat If you see tip drilling, King of Diamonds, tell I got like eight stacks Ace of Spades by the crates, b*atch Never lose, like Alexander the Great, b*atch I only win like Baylor, I run the city like mayors Don't make me go dig up them old Chuck Taylor's Back when me and Snoop was the only ones throwing up gang signs Y'all n***as wasn't bloods until I came and cosigned y'all But y'all the Verizon man, I'm just gon' stand behind y'all And sometimes I gotta remind y'all [Verse 3: Game] Taylor Gang n***a, I ain't Wiz doe But I got that yellow brick road inside my ear lobes Playing ice hockey, feeling like Gretzky Los Angeles King, and I'm who my city gon' cheer for n***as throwing subliminals, act like I don't hear those I could give you 600 bars, but y'all know that y'all fear those And plus I'm too attached to my lifestyle f** them Air 1's, I'm too attached to these spikes now Louboutins, hard as croutons They comfortable like futons, they suede, grey poupon They yellow like Luke on the Lakers, he was traded But they should have moved that n***a marrying Gloria Govan Damn, was that too strong, these n***as getting pooped on While I get my Duke on, and crossover like Duhon You lukewarm, I'm too hot, you're too cold, I'm 2Pac You're too old for Hip Hop, stop, recognize... [Hook]