Lyrics Maybach Music 2 - Rick Ross feat. T-Pain, Lil Wayne and Kanye West

Hey! Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach
Whatever I send out homie I'ma make back
Can you believe that? Whoa-ooh-ooh
You gotta see it (hey)
'Cause I don't plan on goin' broke, put that on my Maybach
'Cause I'm in it to win now, niggas can't take that
Listen to my Maybach music
To my Maybach music
Martin, Louie the King Jr
Startin' all that stuntin' is gon' ruin you
B.I. was alive, he'd prob'ly have the 2-tone
With the Grey Poupon, anythin' 'Ye poop on
Will explode cause I am the shit and this is my commode
Uh-oh, there they go
Talkin' 'bout how your boy's clothes extra tight
I just remembered that my limelight extra bright
I hit the strip club and girls get extra hype
You hit the strip club and girls turn extra dyke
We know who not gettin' no sex tonight
And a lap dance'll probably be a blessin', right?
So all the shit you talkin' dead, coffin
Light the weed, coughin', new crib, loft in
Where it's at? Austin, where is that? Texas
What's in front? Benzes, what else? Lexus
Well who's Maybach is this? Mr. West's
Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach
Whatever I send out, homie I'ma make back
Can you believe that? Whoa-ooh-ooh
You gotta see it (hey)
'Cause I don't plan on goin' broke, put that on my Maybach
'Cause I'm in it to win now, niggas can't take that
Listen to my Maybach music
To my Maybach music
Boss!
Kush burn like petroleum, crib needs custodians
Shades in all shades, these made of rhodium
Used to be the Oldsmo, hoes call it oh-lo
Now I got so many horses, bitches call me Polo
57, 62, tell me how you wanna move
Yeah, you know I got them both, beat your ass black and blue
I was barely gettin' pretty women
Now I scoop Emmy winners like kitty litter
Any winter, Fendi denim like a slender nigga
Lookin' in the mirror, I can see the real contender
Celery for Eben Gregory, I'm on my dinner
So what the fuck is ya tellin' me other than your gender?
I'm a boss and I'm ridin' like a small Vogue
Niggas make your wheels and ride 'em 'til they fall off
Yeah, Ross!
Hey! Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach
Whatever I send out, homie I'ma make back
Can you believe that? Whoa-ooh-ooh
You gotta see it (hey)
'Cause I don't plan on goin' broke, put that on my Maybach
'Cause I'm in it to win now, niggas can't take that
Listen to my Maybach music
To my Maybach music
Well alright, heheh!
All black Maybach, I'm sittin' in the asshole
Classy as a mother, still gutter like a bad bowl
Benjamin Franklin on X how that cash roll
That's right, the mills do like damp clothes
I eat your meal too, we don't feel you
And we be strappin' up like the Navy Seal do
Sweet as banana split everytime I peel through
Fresher than Will Smith and Uncle Phil too
Watchin' TV in the Maybach in traffic
I'm on my feet like Tough Actin' Tinactin
I'm runnin' this shit, you should try tacklin'
Lil Wayne in one word, immaculate
You see the BIG, you see the Jay, the 2Pac in him
The Kurt Cobain, the Andre Three Stacks
And then I'm back to doin' shit like I do's in Maybach music
Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach
Whatever I send out, homie I'ma make back
Can you believe that? Whoa-ooh-ooh
You gotta see it (hey)
'Cause I don't plan on goin' broke, put that on my Maybach
'Cause I'm in it to win now, niggas can't take that
Listen to my Maybach music
To my Maybach music