Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Santorini Greece, artist - Rick Ross. Date of issue: 16.03.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Santorini Greece |
| Sometimes I be wanting to say «fuck the world!» |
| I don’t give a fuck! |
| Shoot it out with all you bitches |
| Bitches don’t love me |
| Young black nigga, nigga fighting the world, nigga |
| Everywhere you go bitches throwing rocks nigga |
| Man, a nigga in a Lamborghini |
| Seen a Cuban kilo I was 15 |
| Dealing yayo never had my teeth cleaned |
| Restricted license but I’m so divisive |
| I know the snipers and I flow the nicest |
| Fresher than Groovy Lou at a Coogi shoot |
| A multiple weapons in my new Gucci boots |
| The bank account done caught the holy ghost |
| I say the bank account done caught the holy ghost |
| Hot pastrami for my Jewish chicks |
| Eight days of Christmas, every day a newer gift |
| I’m Michael Jackson to the rich niggas |
| That leather jacket, baby, with the 6 zippers |
| Suicide, or rather crucified |
| I prophesize your whole crew demise |
| Mutulu wife reside in Cuba nigga |
| Shoot you, let you bleed out, it’s how they do it nigga |
| Huh! |
| Huh! |
| These niggas don’t believe in God |
| From this very moment, you should believe in God |
| Half of my niggas headed to Attica |
| Either trafficking or destined to be a janitor |
| Diabetes rampant in my blood line |
| That why fat boy be happy to see the sunshine |
| I’m here for results baby let’s cut to chase |
| Sticky fingers and paper |
| D.A. |
| will drop the case |
| Art Basel with Lyor I blew 300 with 'em |
| 2 seaters for all the soldiers who running with 'em |
| Ask 100 women, yeah they wanna hit 'em |
| I be half awake and still be running in 'em |
| Two new liter sprite to get me through the night |
| Bowling alley in the basement but we still shooting dice |
| Rich forever, killa take my old advice |
| Better yet, take my old bitches and mold 'em right |
| And if I want her back I come and take her back |
| Santorini Greece, I put it on the map |
| Some points you niggas gotta be grateful |
| Mutulu Shakur |
| I know your dreads touching the floor nigga |
| We in the last days, these racist agendas |
| Blatant double standards because I’m a nigga |
| Jesse Jackson on them people payroll (fuck him) |
| When you black, lips chapped cause the game cold |
| I’m giving niggas jobs when I sing songs |
| White man love me when I get my bling on |
| But you hate me buying real estate in foreign land |
| Respect my genius, all my people Portishead |
| Room full of cloaks and they count votes |
| Million man march and I’m taking notes |
| Made it to the top, you thought they saw a ghost |
| Facing tax evasion, niggas sell they soul |
| So selling dope was the path we chose |
| And now it’s boats in the Bel-Air rows |
| Rich niggas in the set and stone |
| Neck rocky, Sylvester Stallone |
| See me in Capris or them Andes |
| Santorini, Greece with a dime piece |
| My money long, you know I’m out your reach |
| Only fat nigga jogging on the beach |
| Versace underwear but see the ass crack |
| Oblivious to how rapid my cash stack |
| I’m a pistol toter, fuck I’m voting for? |
| (fuck 'em) |
| If I could, I’d drop a bomb, let’s take em all to war (fuck 'em) |
| My favorite shorty out of Baltimore (yeah) |
| Every Chanel you know I bought it for her (I got that) |
| All the arguments she never called the law |
| I was never home but hid the money in the walls |
| Constant visits from the A.T.F |
| So I copped some cribs in the ATL |
| Martha Stewart decorated both |
| Snoop Dogg donated the smoke |
| This Chinese arithmetic, and it all add up |
| It all add up |
| Big Dog, Big Boss |
| Huh! |
| Huh! |