Maybach Music IIIRick Ross

[Intro]
J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League

[Verse 1: T.I.]
My garage is flawless, under a hundred thou' ain't allowed
Maybach triple white like I'm ridin' in a cloud
No denim on my seats, baby you gon' need a towel
Ride sexy through the city, see me, you will be aroused
My bankroll so well endowed
Pull bitches from MIA to ATL in style
And in crowds catch me in Tao, on the strip in Vegas
Chillin', fillin' bitches' faces with babies
Bitch bite your tongue, this just ain't a Mercedes
Tell the ATF I'm ridin' with another .380
That's my car cost, y'all thought I would fall off
That was just a small loss, we can have a ball off
Fly to NY, meet me at the Waldorf-
Astorian, Architecture Victorian
Ridin' in the past like you're drivin' a DeLorean
Hard times, never heard of those in the 'Bach
My feet kicked up, gettin' my dick sucked with the curtains closed
And for the record kid, my final question is
How yo' bitch gon' feel in that when you two pull up next to this?
Hahahah, Maybach Music nigga!

[Chorus: Erykah Badu]
Everybody knows how the story goes
Money and clothes, they gon' come and go
But guess who stays the same? You gon' see the name
Stroll real slow, when the curtains roll

[Verse 2: Jadakiss]
Yo, piff that I'm blowin' on is fuckin' up the ozone
Plus I keep a dope line similar to Cold Stone's
Ice cream, pipe dreams
Is what they have when I pull up in that light thing
I put a hurtin' on, I got the curtains drawn
Whoever ain't gettin' shitted on, I'm squirtin' on
I'm in the six-deuce, fifty-sevens for the help
Chopper in the trunk, .45 for the belt
Bunch of wax dummies, all you guys gonna melt
Live for your kids, die for yourself
Bottles in the sky if you ride for the wealth
Peas on the block, pies on the shelf
If I ain't in the back of the 'Bach, I ain't in nothin' else
Haha, I'm somethin' else

[Chorus: Erykah Badu]
Everybody knows how the story goes
Money and clothes, they gon' come and go
But guess who stays the same? You gon' see the name
Stroll real slow...

[Interlude: Rick Ross]
Huh (J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League)
Huh, cigar please

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
I came alive like a moth in the summertime
Japanese wheel blades all samurai
Shine brighter than them bitches on the other side
Time to make a blind motherfucker recognize
Ammunition got the competition nonexistent
Had to bubble crack but didn't have a pot to piss in
I'll double that, how dare you try to knock a nigga?
Street scholar, graduated no father figure
Still tote chrome, check my chromosomes
Meet me halfway with things in a mobile home
Money machines, yeah they "rrring" like a mobile phone
I'm a 7-Up and need a Coca-Cola loan
I'm in the hood like I'm James Evans
Cashmere hand-made sweater
Me and money got a vendetta
Lookin' back, to tell the truth I could've did betta (woo!)
Parents never had a good job
Now it's Black American Express cards
Uhh ("Maybach Music"), Rozay!