Rick Ross – Burn lyrics

Aye boy, where you at?
Nigga you a dead man if you stay right there my nigga
It’s gonna be a heavy flick coming that way my nigga
Trust me my nigga
Them people coming and they coming with them drums nigga
Get the fuck outta there my nigga
Save yourself my nigga
This shit getting real tricky out here on these streets
I told you first my nigga
It’s problems over there, get the fuck around now

If it ain’t about dreams and nightmares nigga it ain’t about nothing
October 30
Meek millie what it do?
Philly what it do?
So god forgives, you on the road to platinum nigga

Sitting on some cali weed, I think it’s time to burn
Pull up in some shit, to put it in dro you gotta learn
Cocaine cowboys, you better wait your turn
Michael’s on leon money, come and get it on the curve
These nigga wanna hate, that’s why they get what they deserve
We only dealin what we have, livin and we learn
No more j’s on the porch, days that we were poor
Amazed by mama boy, bumpin maze in the porsche
Bulletproof vest suburban, they hatin you when you earn it
Bitches be rollin in it, they say I’m so photogenic
Every night is a feast, niggas be having beef
I teach me a young boy, call him my chief keef
Truders be with extort, go to war over jordans
But you know I’m in these, kidnappin over them keys
But you know I’m in these, kidnappin over them keys

Niggas wanna try, what they gonna say?
I hit the pedal til that motherfucker break
Celebrate, freaky bitches loving money I make
And to live like this you motherfuckers gotta pay

So let that shit burn (burn!)
Let that shit burn (burn!)
I’mma let that shit burn
Let that shit burn (burn!)
The roof on fire, I’m only getting higher
50 racks all in my pocket, hold no bottles
I’mma let that shit burn
Let that shit burn (burn!)
I’mma let that shit burn
Let that shit burn (burn!)
The roof on fire, I’m only getting higher
50 racks all in my pocket, hold no bottles

Hammer on the dresser, work on the stove
I'm sitting on the counter blowing purp out my nose
Red bone naked, in the bed flexin'
I say bitch I ain't impressed you must of got the wrong impression
I ain't with the bs, I'm flyer than pf
Man, we living in hell like a deep breath
Real niggas with real money, real bitches with fake asses
If she don't wanna fuck I get on my skateboard and I skate passed her
Money on the table, guns on the table
Bitch I'm on that syrup tell that ho leggo my eggo
And my girlfriend is a choppa, I finger fuck that ho
Hello I am tunechi: you had me at hello
Drop top maybach, clean like ajax
Man I don't fuck with none of you niggas like rednecks
We got that work so come and get if we don't know you, you pay tax
I put a hole in your apple what that is apple jacks, uh
Pussy nigga I'll murder you then dance at your funeral
Blood I'll have a nigga drinking his own blood communion
Wake up like bone thugs I'll call your bluff pick the phone up
Her titties fake but they look real cubic: zirconia's
Run up in your house spare the kids and kill the grown ups
Your bitch call me when she hot: krispy kreme donuts
Shoutout to my new hoes, shoutout to my old hoes
I still wear that ass out like a wardrobe
Bitch, what they gonna say?
Still eating rappers on my fucking lunch break
Bad yellow bitch with a tongue like a snake
I let her suck my dick then I fuck her to some drake

And then I let that kush burn let that kush burn
Yeah I let that kush burn
Smoking gasoline bitch
The booth on fire I'm in here getting higher
Young money bitch we at the top like barbwire

Chained all vf, I ain’t with the bf
Catch me in the city ridin hard through the bf
Skinny nigga but I do it large like a 3f
The last nigga try it...