All I wanna say Is you're the satellite in my life Lost inside your eyes The vision never dies... oh Oh Just take my hand We'll float in never land
Sometime in late July A faded kind of day In a back street kind of town I had you walk with me Pale red Pale red kiss They're pulling down the flats
Fermez les paupieres, Oh triste courant d'air, Et n'oublie pas ! Le crie des funerailles, Au milieu de tes entrailles, Tu verras ! La mort se mettre
This is K Fox, reporting live for WCCC Just in, a Haitian freighter has just been seized By the Miami Coast Guard with over 60 kilos Hidden aboard the
Convict Up Front, yeah Convikt Muzik Ross, Triple C's If you ever cross that line I guarantee you there'll be nothin' to save ya I got a whole bunch
Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la Do whatcha like Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la Do whatcha like That's all Ross, them boys runnin' in the
Ricky Ross Carol City Cartel Cool and Dre Designer jeans and a hand full of dough Bottle of that rosey, pass me some mo' I got mo' cars, mo' clothes
you suckers think you trippin' with? Yes, I'm the boss Seven forty-five, white on white, that's Rick Ross I cut 'em wide, I cut 'em long, I cut 'em fat
[Verse 1: Rick Ross] Sometimes I Rhyme Slow Sometime I Rhyme Quick Sometime I Buy Blow, So I Supply Bricks Mufuckers Lookin At Me Sideways But Can
Ladies and gentlemen Ladies you are now tuned into the very best Sho' Nuff songs, Jazze Phizzle, Rick Ross Let's go, Daddy Rick Rizzle, M I Yayo Jazze
Lobster Tails I Make Her Go And Cook A Key Catch A Flight First Class Don P Every Glass Next Year We Private Jets In The Clouds Havin Sex Cum Once Cum Twice Rick Ross
It's my time, Rick Ross It's my time (Finna' lay back on this *** man) (Dade County dope boy) I'm not a slim thug, I'm a fat mack I don't give a f***,
Rick Ross, Loyd, street life Ain't nothin' but the street life That's money, cars and hoes It's the only life I chose Street life, ain't nothin' but
C See I need that, my hoes will gimme anythin' Grindin' back in Savannah, climbin' back through Atlanta Shoot the makin', see what shakin' My shit white as Miss Vanna It's Rick Ross
near wanna cry Low '95, stack money like homicide Bloodshed after midnight It's just me and this weed tryin' to get right It's bloodshed after midnight It's just Ross
I flew back To the hell zone, most straps stand 20 shell toes Get life on yo' cell phone Quarter *** box of soda, Ross whip that Career criminal, fo' sho' Ross
' Who the fuck you think you're fuckin' with? I'm the fuckin' boss Seven forty-five, white on white that's fuckin' Ross I cut 'em wide, I cut 'em long
Chorus:] Im Bad (im bad) Im Back (im back), Im Mad (im mad) Im strapped (im strapped) Nigga What You Want Nigga who you wit Came wit my dogs leavin
