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Rick Ross - Mafia Music

Mafia Music
Rick Ross
04:16
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Song lyrics

[Rick Ross:]
My corner so polluted, young niggas lootin',
I studied Kenneth Williams, I'm one hell of a student.
Remarkable hustle, my niggas comin' home,
I kept the candle lit, my nigga never rowed,
Niggas caught him slippin', gave him a shit bag,
Five shots to the stomach, Tupac gift pack.
It's death row, conspiracy theories,
Concealed indictments handed to the grand jury,
Get some money now, you hated by your own kind,
The home invasion done by niggas in your bloodline.
GABOS, game ain't based on sympathy,
So he put a hit on his cousin and auntie,
Her sweet potato pies, oh me, oh my!
Showin' no remorse, watchin' the others cry.
Heroin sales, detectives'll sell,
A lot of yellow tape, where that Obamacare?
This the mob, bitch, silk underwear,
Yeezy concerts, Kim Instagrams.
Niggas hatin', though, they studied my moves,
I'm like Farrakhan, in view of hundreds of Jews.
Two attempts on my life, they threatened venues,
Can't you see what I am? The hustle continue.
I bought more jewels, I ordered the Wraith,
I got a new style of shoes, match the watch in the face.
Bill Belichick, coachin' and callin' the shots,
Throw a yellow flag, pussy nigga body drops,
Then we celebrate, black bottles pop,
Time to elevate, we re-open shop.
Wale a genius, Meek Mill a superstar,
My new crib in Phoenix, ten car garage.
Patek Philippe, platinum Audemars,
Ain't no tags needed, nigga, I own them cars.
I know them bitches, we met them broads,
Never loved one, fucked them all.
I'm a fuckin' dog, Ricky fuckin' Ross,
Nigga, Birkin bags just for my runner-ups,
But my main bitch, she get the main dish,
Not the old Range, that was a lame, bitch!
Brazilian weave, she say, I came quick,
I let her see a hundred kis, a gift from St. Nick.
Movin' bricks like it's Black Friday,
She gotta fuck me or call me a fat crybaby.
Lookin' over my shoulder, I can't trust a soul,
Bought a spot in Anguilla just for me and my ho.
Glock .40, even when I shower,
Chrome .22 in my swimming towel.
Mob ties and I pray the music set me free,
May the powers that be better let me be.

[Chorus: Mavado]
Ya better not be around when the sun goes down,
And the real, real killers them out for ya.
It's gunna be be a bloodshed,
One buss, one dead, it's gunna be a bloodshed,
Gun, gunshot inna head.

[Mavado:]
Payback is a mothafucka,
Yes, I feel it when I squeeze the trigger,
I feel the air when my enemies die,
I feel the strength of ten killer,
What is to be will be.
Only God alone can kill me,
‘Cause these fuckin' streets filthy,
And I ain't fuckin' guilty!

[Sizzla:]
Gangsta no take no chat from no guy, know why?
Violate a gangsta and bullets fly, bwoy die.
Guns go off, or so we say,
Murder, action anywhere.
Gangsta no take no chat from no guy, know why?
Violate a gangsta and bullets fly, bwoy die.
Guns go off, or so we say,
Murder, action anywhere.

[Chorus: Mavado]
Ya better not be around when the sun goes down,
And the real, real killers them out for ya.
It's gunna be be a bloodshed,
One buss, one dead, it's gunna be a bloodshed,
Gun, gunshot inna head.

[Sizzla:]
Sizzla Kalonji and Rick Ross have the gals dem screamin. Entire country, every street lab, you already know the meaning. Go and clean, you can't diss me you must be dreamin. Jamaicans, make dem know we carry the team in!

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