Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Still Wanna, artist - Rick Ross. Date of issue: 07.08.2011
Song language: English
Still Wanna |
| Its like an itch you can’t scratch |
| Its like a bitch you can’t shake |
| I still wanna |
| Sleeping with the finest |
| The thread count is bindless |
| Security blanket of cocaine, I am Linus |
| In this climate Im Kareem Burke tied in |
| The Roc silent partner I ain’t throwing up the diamond |
| Throwin on the sherwin, collars up, bottles up |
| Sparkles to the table, got em feeling like hes Merlin |
| Whirlwind, powder makes your World spin |
| Learn from OGs, Alpha Romeos and Sterling |
| Updated that, upgraded that |
| Suffocation blue, in the insides potato sacks |
| Yeah, talk money, Im made of that |
| Cocaine parties, like the 70s I cater that |
| You know what fame is? |
| Sittin with the women of your dreams and forgettin what her name is |
| You know what pain is? |
| Flushing 2 bricks and have a nigga try to strain it out the drainage |
| See my face on the news and it ain’t Tivo |
| I still wanna sell kilos |
| Its like Im throwing rocks at the pen begging for the rico |
| I still wanna sell kilos |
| Searching for the fish scale like Im tryna find Nemo |
| I still wanna sell kilos |
| Thats what happens when you Michael and they try to treat you like Tito |
| I still wanna sell kilos |
| Grew up watching momma car repoed |
| A little nigga staring through the peep hole |
| How you think I felt knowing daddy wasn’t there |
| Recycling cans cause nobody ever cared |
| Get it how you live, always echoed in the streets |
| When we talking business, talking on the phone cease |
| Feds listening to conversations through my own star |
| Piecing puzzles together solving homocides? |
| Dice game chatter, better bring your stash out |
| Red Velour, Im in the white glass house |
| Half a ticket bitches quick to drop it on the scale |
| Fiddling dope a real nigga sell yayo |
| Everyday a nigga dies than we can’t ask why |
| Show em all love, the bitches f-cked on the side |
| Tony Montana, tailor made suits in the church |
| Rolls Royce corniche, trunk full of work |
| See my face on the news and it ain’t Tivo |
| I still wanna sell kilos |
| Its like Im throwing rocks at the pen begging for the rico |
| I still wanna sell kilos |
| Searching for the fish scale like Im tryna find Nemo |
| I still wanna sell kilos |
| Thats what happens when you Michael and they try to treat you like Tito |
| I still wanna sell kilos |
| Testarossa top models, G4s, Gucci pass the crease off |
| Everything I climb in, I win |
| Richer male, ?, remarkable timing |
| Black label everything, logos in the lining |
| Bell Biv DeVoe push poison like a copper head |
| Powder smoke clears through the walking dead |
| The Rose bottles pour for the Champions |
| You think it was a Grammy win |
| Celebration spills through the morning like an ambion |
| Bithces love my ambience |
| Chain swinging, ticker taping like its Mardi Gras |
| Thousand niggas deep, never needed body guards |
| Thousands keys that Im about to do pilates on |
| Where the Kings crowned like the grill a Maseratis on |
| Candy coated parked, doors ajar, on a stripper |
| Blew a fuse and caught a body on |
| Cocaine storaging |
| Liva living dreams, ya DeLoreans pouring in |