[Intro: Rick Ross] This shit is highly sophisticated I just make it look easy nigga Follow me
[Verse 1: Rick Ross] I'm so sophisticated To get a verse from me, you gotta be initiated To get a purse from me, she gotta be sophisticated Purchase a whip from me and never miss a single payment I'm from the city where the Muslims even Christians hate it Even the black folk hate to see another nigga made it Tell all them pussies to chill, champagne refrigerated Just bought a chopper 'cause the last one, got it confiscated Counting a hundred mill so many times, I contemplated You wanna be the hottest but that shit get complicated I pull your card, I know you're pussy by your conversation Show you the safe, you'll have to kill me for that combination Made another two milli just off the compilation I just hit a lick, I'm telling you this shit amazing Got a white bitch, she fucking me just like she Jamaican Sippin' purple and that muthafucker concentrated This for my niggas in them prisons, overpopulated
[Hook: Rick Ross] This the mob so you gotta get initiated If you a mob, then you gotta make an issue payment We going hard, run it back just like it's Walter Payton The game's sweet, gave all my niggas an occupation (Ugh) We so sophisticated (Ugh) Shit so sophisticated (Woop) Hundred millionaires, guess you made it (Ugh)
[Verse 2: Rick Ross] I'm so sophisticated Smoking weed, busting open dolla liquor later I bust her open then I tell her I'ma lick her later Pull out the stick and spray that bitch just like it's activator Time to lay down these niggas who still be masquerading We know you pussies, so you got my niggas masturbating Round of applause 'cause them choppers be so captivating So sophisticated 'cause them hits be calculated Put yo dick in the dirt, now you decapitated I'm getting money so you'll never hear me talking petty Tatted on my stomach, rich forever, Makaveli Fifty million, hundred million, it's accumulating I'm the hottest and these other niggas cooling, ain't it I got a bitch I'm fucking that you see on Bet My lil' Haiti shooters will have yo ass on Tmz Breaking news and we still get them for 10 a key And if he faking, fuck him, tell them niggas "C'est la vie"
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Meek Mill] Shittin' on these haters, ball hard D-Waders Ever since I got money, e'rybody need favors That's why I ain't got no homies, and I ain't got no neighbors But I be on my grind like I ain't got no paper But I'm so rich and I got yo bitch All in my whip and she all on my dick With a hand on my stick, tryna live in my crib 'Cause I handle my shit like a candle got lit 'Cause I burn shit down, yea I'm in my bag And these nigg** so mad it's my turn now And I get that cash, my bitch so bad, she know sophisticated I'm balling hard, fucking bitches and ain't got shit for haters I hang my arm out the window now watch me get the paper My neck so frosty, you frauding, yo shit refrigerator Boy you an imitator You ain't got no M's in yo account, I never ask my amount Treat that bad bitch like a bad check 'cause I cash that and I bounce I ain't never had shit but I grab shit and I cashed out on that ounce And I flipped that to a bird and bounced back like word
[Hook]
Confirmação de Idade
Esta letra possui restrição de idade, você deve ter mais que 18 anos para acessá-la.
Compositores: William Roberts (Ric Ross), Jermaine Anthony Preyan, Maurice Jordan (Kenoe), Robert Rihmeek Williams (Meek Mill), Anthony Joseph Tucker ECAD: Obra #7588119 Fonograma #2730471
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