Rick Ross - Rapper Estates lyrics

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Rick Ross - Rapper Estates lyrics

[Intro: Rick Ross] I pray for us all In the immortal words of the brother Malcolm X Yo, yo, yo (Maybach Music) [Verse 1: Rick Ross & Benny the Butcher] Backs against ropes, win a case Then it's back to bein' broke, I know the place Where the rats and the roaches would race Now it's rap ni**as' smoke-filled estates Who envisioned my initials in the gates? Confidential but these b*tches know they place Count C-notes, kilos like I'm cuttin' cakes Even Janet Reno know a ni**a race Prince appeal, poppin', sippin' purple rain Ask me how I feel, I tell you I no longer feel the pain Kill the game, that's three hundred for the chain And it don't include the charm just to show you who the king Hundred cars just to show you we at odds Let's begin to have you dress to your weed in cigars Stay on the phone, but I limit all remarks Just remember we the mob and regarded as a god They want informants on the clique side (Clique side) They wanna know how low the bricks fly (Bricks fly, uh-huh) They wanna know a ni**a dick size (Dick size, check one, two, one, two) Even though they know I'm livin' big time (Big time) Biggest (Yeah) It's incredible [Verse 2: Benny the Butcher] Yo, I came home with a connect and got started abruptly That's five figures off a chick and I bought her Kentucky We did that twice, then invested in artists that's hungry To change a young ni**a life and launder the money, wait No handouts, I'm goin' on three summers legit Machine, Cutter, and West, and me, each one of us rich Before I did it, they ain't know these numbers exist A ni**a left the plug, then blew up three hundred to six, mmm Yeah, Forgiatos veerin', smokin' while I'm steerin' (While I'm steerin') I don't gotta pick these hoes, they volunteerin' (Volunteerin') Jump out, diamonds glarin', flexin', why they starin'? (Why they starin'?) I know you wanna take it, so that's why I wear it I heard they wanna know how much the clique makin' In this book of life, you can't skip pages Got my strip quakin' off a wrist, takin' big paper I'm really in the field, you just Skip Bayless, ah [Verse 3: Rick Ross] It's incredible, huh Been a baller but you never been a base Just a casket for kilo in a crate Pray for pastors trapped outside of the gates Young ba*tards never tappin' the brakes Dumb rappers never ownin' the tapes Just tools and afterparties to make More beefs and dirty b*tches to chase New shoes, expensive cars to race Big homes, just pay 'em off at a pace I threw in the elevators and sat 'em right on a lake Been in moments the business was at a break I'm at the fork in the road, which way, Hov or Ma$e? New crib, now add up all of the bills The ni**as you wanna kill, another slice of the cake More ice and wiretaps from Vice Rep double M, they wanna lead a double life Whack a ni**a, need no receipts Clap a ni**a, leave him on the seat Rappers always seem to be the wannabes It seem like I'm the one they really wanna be [Outro: Rick Ross] Rappers always seem to be the wannabes It seem like I'm the one they really wanna be Maybach Music