Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 911 , by - Rick Ross. Release date: 31.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
911 |
| I bow my head, I pray to God |
| Survival of the fittest: help me hold my chopper Lord! |
| If I die today, on the highway to heaven |
| Can I let my top down in my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| Financial fanatic, 40 bricks in my attic |
| 400K in my baggage, 80 round automatic |
| You can’t stop a bullet, this one for the money |
| Secret indictments, Porsche costs me 200 |
| Fuck all these broke niggas cause all I do is ball |
| Ain’t no more off days, my crib look like a mall |
| Fired the stylist, went and bought a big and tall |
| Niggas still scheming, we sliding on the mall! |
| I remember picking watermelons |
| Now the Porsche cost me a quarter million! |
| If I die tonight I know I’m coming back nigga |
| Reincarnated: big black fat nigga! |
| I bow my head, I pray to God |
| Survival of the fittest: help me hold my chopper Lord! |
| If I die today, on the highway to heaven |
| Can I let my top down in my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| Financial fanatic, 40 bricks in my attic |
| 400K in my baggage, 80 round automatic |
| You can’t stop a bullet, this one for the money |
| Secret indictments, Porsche costs me 200 |
| Fuck your investigation, started my elevation |
| Cherry red 911 straight to my destination |
| Mayweather got a fight, make me some reservations |
| Knew I flew private nigga, strapped with no hesitations |
| Boochie Boochie money long, he got 20 cars |
| Graduated from them blocks, now it’s stocks and bonds |
| Hoes wanna know, hoes wanna show |
| They know a nigga’s name, they know a nigga’s strong |
| Fuck with me! |
| I bow my head, I pray to God |
| Survival of the fittest: help me hold my chopper Lord! |
| If I die today, on the highway to heaven |
| Can I let my top down in my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| Financial fanatic, 40 bricks in my attic |
| 400K in my baggage, 80 round automatic |
| You can’t stop a bullet, this one for the money |
| Secret indictments, Porsche costs me 200 |
| Fuck your insinuation, work come from Venezuela |
| Love me some skinny bitches, fat boy just 'bout his paper |
| Hustle while niggas gossip, hating, that switch the topic |
| Jump in my 911, 2 bricks in my compartment! |
| She let me smell her pussy! |
| I know you smell the money! |
| Still smell the gunpowder |
| 911 — 100 miles and running |
| I bow my head, I pray to God |
| Survival of the fittest: help me hold my chopper Lord! |
| If I die today, on the highway to heaven |
| Can I let my top down in my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| I bow my head, I pray to God |
| Survival of the fittest: help me hold my chopper Lord! |
| If I die today, on the highway to heaven |
| Can I let my top down in my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |
| In my 911? |