Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Yacht Club, artist - Rick Ross. Album song Deeper Than Rap, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Island Def Jam
Song language: English
Yacht Club |
He not bigger than biggy, |
Bitch I’m bigger than you. |
It’s just a boat if it cost you like a milli or two. |
Gotta kick off your shoes, |
Okay let’s take a cruise, |
Here’s my captain now relax, |
Let him do what he do. |
Okay who rolling spinach? |
'Cause I’m reeling the anchor. |
Smoke up an acre of grass, |
Wake up in Jamaica. |
Couple nautical knots, I call my Cubanos to cop, |
Puerto Rico for women, |
Hit Barbados to shop. |
Living larger than life, |
Call this the Yacht Club, |
Before you join us, bitch you gotta get your stocks up. |
She walking back and forth, |
She just itching to fuck, |
And then I heard her whisper: («Girl, you know he rich as fuck.») |
Travel the seven seas, |
There is no better breeze. |
If he indulge in jealousy his ass better breathe. |
Man overboard 'cause he going overboard, |
Damn it’s over for him- Put that on my vocal chord. |
Magazeen: |
(CHORUS) |
There’s a party, going on. |
All the gals dem welcome, |
To the Yacht Club. |
Magazeen (Magazeen) Let them in. |
Rick Ross (Verse Two) |
Kill all the middle men, I’m the Millitant Gilligan, |
Speaking Creole with gentlemen as I cruise the Caribbean. |
Oh Lord, I’m a star down in St. Barth’s, |
The fat Tommy Lee, I made out with like eight broads. |
But up in Costa Rica, |
I get the most of features. |
She no speakey no Ingles, |
Maybe Fat Joe could teach her. |
Smoking barrels of reefer, |
Only the Yacht Club. |
Before you join us, bitch you gotta get your stocks up. |
Travel the seven seas, |
There is no better breeze, |
When we started selling keys this just how we thought it would be. |
No one agrees with me, |
But that’s just how it goes. |
I’m the greedy genius, no reference to the ugly clothes. |
I still hustle for dough but no more me scuffing my soles. |
Make the presentation and trust me the customer’s sold. |
I’m cruising in the Gulf, |
I think you’re So Def. |
Janet was in control, |
Because that hoe left. |
Magazeen: |
(CHORUS) |
There’s a party, going on. |
All the gals dem welcome, |
To the Yacht Club. |
Magazeen (Magazeen) Let them in. (Let Them In.) |
Rick Ross (Verse Three) |
My dick a big stretch and quick to tell a bitch fetch. |
Tell you to kiss her ass after you bought that bitch breast. |
Her head above average, |
My head above water, |
By now you can see my palace right off the coast of Florida. |
I’m into fine fish, with a slight lime twist, |
Veggies on the side of course, |
Kush appetizers. |
Let your Mercedes chill, |
Roll with a Navy SEAL. |
This the Yacht Club, |
Wodie trust me? |
Your lady will. |
Still spilling champagne, |
Or is it Merlot? |
Fuck it, it’s fine wine. |
My bitch a virgo. |
I don’t do the signs, |
Unless it’s dollar’s on them. |
I’m the boss of the boat, |
Cashmere collar on them. |
Thinking of last year, and all the money’s made, |
Now it’s corporate investing, |
Amongst the other things. |
No one agrees with me, |
But that’s just how it goes, |
I’m the greedy genius, no reference to the ugly clothes. |
Magazeen: |
(CHORUS) |
There’s a party, going on. |
All the gals dem welcome, |
To the Yacht Club. |
Magazeen (Magazeen) Let them in. (Let them in.) |
Magazeen: |
-You gotta let the ladies know what is the Yacht Club. |
(Jamaican Patois in background) |
BUMBACLOT! |