Rick Ross - Inkredible lyrics

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Rick Ross - Inkredible lyrics

[Verse 1: Trae] Tha Truth back, let's get to business It's something unfamiliar Call it a foreign image Paint heavily leaking I guess it wasn't finished Riding with something freaky They tell me she the business The chain clear, stones never cloudy 60 rats or better, n***a ask about me Certified gangster, please don't ever doubt me Welcome to the streets You can't get in without me I'm Presidential, Obama painted the Vogues black Chopper in the Chevy, top rollin' back My life a motion picture, b**h I ain't gotta act I send em to your section, n***a hold that It's raining scattered bullets Too late to run for cover, I drain em like Kobe Then I evacuate to the gutter On something that's pokey with looks And a trunk they'd like to stutter I rank as the king of the city It ain't gon be another (Inkredible, inkredible, inkredible, inkredible...) [Verse 2: Lil Wayne] I'm sending shots, it's happy hour I shoot from close range, I'm a need a shower Brains in the sink, body on the counter Women and the kids, leave em how I found em I'm a real n***a, stand still n***a I'll cut your face, have you lookin like Seal n***a Then I pull your card, then I deal with you Gamble with your life, is this your lucky night My b**h so f**ing right, every night I f** her twice Big boy money b**h, pockets on Charlie Wise Tatted up, I'm scarred for life Tell the cops I know all my rights Got choppas I don't mean Harley bikes Drop em like a bag of ice Shades dark, flag bright Wallet chain, chrome horse Hair to the f**ing back, call that sh**, Rosa Parks Dr. Carter, man I gave hip-hop open heart Young Money baby aka Noah's Ark And I'm Noah! YOUNG MULA BABY [Verse 3: Rick Ross] My money long, my temper short My cars foreign, my dick a boss The guns new, the beef old It's time to come through like never before Liquid C4, look at me ho Look into my eyes do you see a C.O.? I'm talking kilo's, time to reload Map fout ou deyo – "Shut the f** up" in Creole b**h I'm paid up, get ya weight up Peel the top back reel the shades up I got them automatics so you know I'm automatic All my auto's automatic you know that's automatic What you n***as want to see Don't get caught in the street I got G's that'll wait for a quarter key, n***a I'm living n***a f** the critics n***a (f** em) sh** is serious n***a You hear the lyrics n***a (Yep!) It's Ricky n***a