Rick Ross ☆ 3 Kings (Feat. Dr. Dre & Jay-Z)

Yeah, classic hip hop shit
Dr. D-R-E
Rozay and Jay, let’s get ‘em
We started out moppin’ floors
And now we front row at the awards
Number one for the last twenty years
If you real, mothafucka
scream cheers
Mothafucka scream cheers
Heh, and it is what it is
He wanted to shine
at the swap meet
Til the white boys got him
in that hot seat
I only love it when her hair long
You should listen to this beat
through my headphones
Money long, number
one twenty years strong
Fuck a gym, I am him,
I’m Andre Young
G5s to 64s, Dre got ‘em
If the bitch bad I got her in red bottoms
Great weed, nice homes,
bread proper
Tec nine, one chamber, top shotta
Bentley coupe, new yacht,
my helicopter
Born broke, real nigga
straight out of Compton
The fuck you magazine
niggas want from me
I rewrote the game, nigga, now
talk money
All black on my Al Capone shit
I built a house, nigga get your
own shit
I only love it when her hair long
You should listen to this beat
through my headphones
See y’all niggas
Hit the switches on that shit
one time, ugh
Let the top down
I came a long way
from the weed game
Twenty stack seats at the Heat game
And I’m still strapped
with the heat man
And we steppin’
on a nigga feet man
80 pair of sneakers
came from the D game
Cousin was a Crip,
said it was a C thing
Brown bag money in a duffle bag
Fuck ‘em all, wet ‘em
and we gotta double back
The homie whippin’ chickens
in his momma kitchen
On the mission, said he
get it for his son tuition
Real nigga’s
dreams comin’ to fruition
Stumble, but I never fall,
leanin’ on my pistol
I only love it when the ass fat
We should listen to this track
in my Maybach
I’m just tryin’ to be a billionaire
Come and suck a dick
for a millionaire
Uh, it’s just different
I know it feels different
Uh, I only love her
if her eyes brown
Play this shit while you play
around with my crown
King H-O, y’all should know by now
But if you don’t know, uh
Millions on the wall and all my rooms
Niggas couldn’t fuck
with my daughter’s room
Niggas couldn’t walk
in my daughter’s socks
Banksy bitches, Basquiat
I ran through that buck fifty
Live Nation fronted me
They workin’ on another deal,
they talkin’ two hundred fifty
I’m holdin’ out for three
Two seventy five and I just
might agree
Ex-D-boy, used to park my beamer
Now look at me, I can park in my
own arena
I only love her if her weave new
I’m still a hood nigga, what
you want me to do
Been hoppin’ out the BM
with your BM
Taking her places that you
can’t go with your per diem
Screamin’ carpe diem
until I’m a dead poet
Robin Williams shit,
I deserve a golden globe bitch
I take a Ace in the meanwhile
You ain’t gotta keep this
Khaled, it’s just a freestyle
Fuck rap money,
I’ve made more off crates
Fuck show money,
I spent that on drapes
Close the curtains, fuck boy,
out my face
I whip the coke, let the lawyer
beat the case
Murder was the case
that they gave me
I killed the Hermes store,
somebody save me
Stuntin’ to the max like wavy
Oh shit
Oh, stuntin’ to the max,
I’m so wavy
Used to shop at TJ Maxx back in ’83
I don’t even know
if it was open then
I ain’t know Oprah then
Have the XL 80 bike
Loud motor, they be like,
Damn when I’m comin’
through, rrraaanngg
Had the grill in ’88,
y’all niggas is late
You got all that, right
I love this shit like my own daughter
Let’s spray these niggas, baby,
just like daddy taught ya
Young, this is just different