| Kinda short, dark-skinned, she a fly lil' bitch
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| Be up in all them clubs spillin Dom P and shit
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| Know the boy stunt, Jonathan Kelsey clutch
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| Yves Saint Laurent fronts on her bags to the pumps
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| D’s love her aura, Balenciago fedora
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| Lame niggaz bore her, struttin like she Kimora
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| She’ll take a kilo and stuff it up in the coochie
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| Quicker than Ron, stash it between her coochie (ha ha)
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| Breeze through the hood, niggaz treat her like a O.G.
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| First bitch in the hood, with the Bentley Coupe GT (yes)
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| Brooklyn is the team, Alexander McQueen
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| Bustin down a bird and balance it with a beam
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| Five five, slanted eyes, bitch walk is mean
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| Mahushi Ron bracelets and Armani jeans
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| They’re called skinny, my bitch is like a rasta with it
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| Black car, red bottoms, only mobster in it
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| It’s like damn, bitch, niggaz lovin me now
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| Oh-nine Bonnie &Clyde doin it now — whoa
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| Murder murder, these bitches ain’t never heard of
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| Gettin money, gettin hurt up, impatient to leak them burners
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| Aiyyo Ross, send them bitches to the boss
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| The blood claat flyest bad bitch in New York
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| Y’all hoes better bow the fuck down and pay homage
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| I’m ten million sold and that’s SoundScan knowledge
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| And all y’all rat bitches sound garbage
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| While me and Ross like the hood version of bombings
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| Bars give me style like when you steppin in my
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| The 38 special in my Chanel sock
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| Now I got the llama and Ermet’s dark
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| Word to sly swifter fox who above me?
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| say hello in pumps, Nickelus Curt with that bomb
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| So ladies raise your glass to this man song
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| Money ain’t a thing, just look at my pinkie rings
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| So many numbers in the bank, shit could never be the same
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| Tall four Velours, withdrawals by Michael Kors
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| And I watch a pretty penny I’m talkin hundred or more
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| My critique for 'leet, not for the cheap
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| And my money in the street way longer than my receipt
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| Dealin with the money, no (Monie) all (In The Middle)
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| I’m dealin with opponents, they gettin riddled
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| Box niggaz up, on the ropes
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| Louis sneakers, Louis luggage, the colognes and soaks
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| Smellin like money, my body tatted with hundreds
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| Oh-nine Bonnie Clyde, gotta live with it like uh |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Murder Mami , by - Rick Ross. Song from the album Deeper Than Rap, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп