Whichever outfits you choose, youll all look like you just emerged from the sea with land legs in time to start trick-or-treating
Retrieved 20 March 2020
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[Instrumental Interlude: Mike Dean Guitar Solo] [Verse 3: Rick Ross] Lookin' at my bitch, I bet she give your ass a bone Lookin' at my wrist, it'll turn your ass to stone Stretch limousine, sipping ros all alone Double-headed monster with a mind of his own Cherry-red chariot, excess is just my character All-black tux, nigga's shoes lavender I never needed acceptance from all you outsiders Had cyphers with Yeezy before his mouth wired (Uh) Before his jaw shattered, climbing up the Lord's ladder We still speedin', running signs like they don't matter, uh Hater talkin' never made me mad Never that, not when I'm in my favorite paper tag Therefore, G4s at the Clearport When it come to tools, fool, I'm a Pep Boy When it came to dope, I was quick to export Never tired of ballin', so it's on to the next sport New Mercedes sedan, the Lex' sport So many cars, DMV thought it was mail fraud Different traps I was gettin' mail from Polk County, Jacksonville, right in Melbourne Whole clique appetites had tapeworms Spinnin' Teddy Pendergrass vinyl as my J burns I shed a tear before the night's over God bless the man I put this ice over (Uh) Getting 2Pac money twice over Still a real nigga, red Coogi sweater, dice-roller I'm makin' love to the angel of death Catchin' feelings, never stumble, retracin' my steps (Uh) [Outro: Rick Ross] Uh Uh About Have the inside scoop on this song
This is just like my Grandma Faye made it back in the day and sometimes simple is just best
High collar with a streamlined row of tone-on-tone buttons
