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