Lyrics Strapped - Rick Ross, Noah

Strapped - Rick Ross, Noah
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Strapped, artist - Rick Ross. Album song Rise To Power, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 06.10.2008
Record label: Suave House II
Song language: English

Strapped

I may not have been made for this rap shit dawg
Niggas talkin' shit, on records and shit
I’ma put these hands on your ass nigga
You know I’m strapped with the mac
Try me if you want I blow a bitch bad
Catch me on the band she playin gloves and goggles
On a?
Benz V12 with a bottle
A hollow and a handwave?, 50 to follow
I put one knee on blow, your ass been swallow
If you bite me dog, I’ma get your ass pavo
Wake up the no-ribs and the friends in Chicago
I’m rolling in Miami with, momos on the Lac
Eyes?
holdin' a stolen mac
Aiming at the first 'O on your Polo cap
Find the tool at any, signed a fool
Got a half tuition for my daughter’s private school
Reason for the violent moves, silent?
Keep birds on us like the pirate’s do
I’m embarrassed to speak for who your signin' to
Ya, ya all niggas stupid for free, fuck
I don’t know if you noticed Joe, but I grew up on focus ho
With nothin' to lose, it’s nothin' to prove
No other option but bustin' the tool, runnin' to school
With illegal things in my locker, I flame your posture
I critically acclaim an Oscar, sprayin' at your Rasta
?
I made a mistake and hit your father
I ain’t sued for that I shock ya, snatch your rockets, pop ya
Respect me or Noah ya all better
I’m make you an honorary pall bearer
For small cheddar, bet ya wet ya brung cheddar, funds-getter
You a chipp off a ton sniffer, Lung-filler
My style none iller, gun-spiller flow for fun stealer killer
How you gonna stand the Kelly gave up potatoes for cheese still a peeler
Belly hot top stealer pillar, fedi-feller big-welly dealer
You cheaper than a Pica Deli dinner
I strike like a match, put my life on a track
Hit?
pikes with my wife and some crack
When I get her for a piss, I twistin' like a sack
Off goes the seat belts, out comes the snacks
Cop from mia out comes the mac
Out goes your back, out comes you sad
It’s a lot of niggas bark, but they really won’t stretch
I have your ass like, man where we goin' at?
If you’re lookin for beef, I’ll be too
Hang on your back, jumpin' like an eq
Can fill your waist, legs, feet, too
A witness film the shooter, I’m like me too
They went that way, I didn’t see no car
But listen close unless you wanna to see these balls
In jail you’d be barred from the TV squad
Your soft fans, really wanna beat me hard

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Artist lyrics: Rick Ross
Artist lyrics: Noah