Rick Ross - F*ck Em Lyrics

Rick Ross Lyrics

F*ck Em Lyrics
[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
C-note after c-note, put the remix on my kilo
Thought I wouldn't make it, now I'm winning - Timothy Tebow
Fourth quarter, I'm back; fourth quarter, in fact
Fourth quarter, that sack; Fourth Ward in all black
I said boss and I meant that; advance, you spent that
Corvette so clean you'll think Bruce Springsteen rid that
Cars just like sneakers, just got me ten pair
Dubai, I been there - but f*ck that, we in here
Roll up and inhale, I live next to Denzel
Alonzo, my condo cost three mil', this shit real
IPhone and iPad, Air Max, and my gat
Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks
All I need is bad hoes, all these niggas gon' rat
Half these niggas working now, they knocked it down, they're going back
All I need is Benzos, squatting on Lorenzos
Stack my money tenfold, make this my new ten-four

[Hook: Rick Ross]
F*ck em, f*ck em, I'm screaming f*ck em
F*ck em, f*ck em, I'm screaming f*ck em
F*ck all you haters
Watch me f*ck all these bitches
I got eight different Rollies
And they all mint condition

I'm screaming f*ck em, f*ck em, I'm screaming f*ck em
F*ck em, f*ck em, I'm screaming f*ck em
I got five different Benzes
This is my deposition
I'm screaming, "F*ck every witness"
Cause bitch, I'm big business
I'm screaming f*ck em

[Verse 2: 2 Chainz]
'Migo hit my boost, 'migo hit my boost
What you know about walking in the Gucci store and they salute?
Chain cost a coupe, coupe cost a crib
Riding with the chopper, like it's my friend
This for real niggas only, I still bet with Kobe
Got a sign in my garage that say, "Foreign only"
Forces pouring, on mixtapes I'm touring
See my shit that fire shit, and yo' shit boring
I'm chain smoking loud like it's a Newport
Dad wasn't around - my father figure was Too Short
New Porsche deuced up, two cups got juice in it
Two forks, two pots, I could whip it both-handed
My girl is bow-legged, just do it like Bo Jackson
Every beat I'm toe-tagging, charm big as a Volkswagon
Money got me sagging, it really doesn't matter
I run circles round these niggas' world like Saturn


[Verse 3: Wale]
Black Foamposites, it's like we on that mobbing shit
Riding five deep and I'm as dirty as them congressmen
Sixty-two, without no tint; missing roof on my new shit
Ironic since my drive increased, my driver see the profit
Yeah, work, f*ck you niggas, pay me though
Smoke that Mark McGwire strong, Oakland ain't no basic smoke
Shout-out to your lady, a.k.a. MMG favorite ho
Tell that ass the way to go before I show her where to go
No Canseco, and I'm switching lanes at one six oh
A nigga trees fine - a police siren!
Woop woop - nah, that's just Diplo
And you cute, shorty; let's get low
On the low, I'm a talk that jazz
Jungle fever for the night
Horny or white, that's Anglo-Sax

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