| Sweeeeeeeeeeet!
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| Ha-ha-ha!
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| Come and take a ride
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| Come and take a ride
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| Billionaire
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| Yayo
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| JUSTICE LEAGUE
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| 57 years, yes!
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| Blood for a D-Boy
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| Hand my mack 11 to the engineer to record
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| Got the baddest women in the world for me to feed on Double deck yacht, docked Boss, blowing weed up Revenue incredible, it put me on a pedestal
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| Columbia to Mexico, I figure there was a better rule
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| Look at me, a model now
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| Models and bottles 'round
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| A Blood holla', ballin'
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| But the boys in blue, shot 'em down
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| Gang-affiliated, colors prosecutors painted
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| 'Cause the niggas I employed, name synonymous with Mi-Yayo
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| Instrumental that are mental, Maybach kind of mental
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| 400 off the lot, the block is monumental
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| Some things money can’t buy
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| Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride
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| In the rear, so many instruments I hear
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| Tucked behind curtain, no signs to fear (ROSS!)
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| I’m higher than a leer / Aaliyah
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| This Maybach music, designer shit I wear
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| May cause you to lose it Close your eyes and inhale the smoke
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| It’s Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote, nigga!
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| 5 ounces, take a toke
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| Of this Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote
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| BOSS!
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| YOUNG!
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| F**k it then!
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| Black Maybach, white seas, black piping
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| Remind me of Paul McCartney and Mike fighting
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| You know, The Girl Is Mine
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| Life’s A Bitch+, so The Whole World Is Mine
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| The six-deuce long, the curtains are drawn
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| Perfectly like a Picasso, Rembrandts and Rocco’s
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| I’m a major player, 40−40's in Vegas at the Palazzo
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| They said it was not so Certain things that money can’t buy
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| Like being this fly
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| 'Til then, I’m just gonna’ride!
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| I’m like G-Rap with better transportation
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| On the road to the riches, reach my (Final Destination)
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| And the lair, closer to a leer / Aaliyah
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| Say a Prayer, hope I get ta’see her
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| When I disappear from here — baby, yeah!
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| But I don’t see the ending through these millionaire lenses
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| Just the Two M’s on the emblem
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| The partition roof, translucent and Humador
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| Where refrigerators, where Ace of Spades — two I store!
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| True story, my closet is like two stories
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| Cut to the happy ending, 'cause I don’t do stories
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| Shawn Corey, real rap
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| The Maybach is bananas, peel back!
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| You feel that?
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| YOUNG! |
| C’mon!
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| Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin’in my Maybach
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| 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back
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| Since way back, since way back
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| 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back!
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| Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin’in my Maybach
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| 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back
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| Since way back, since way back
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| 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back!
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| BOSS!
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| Can’t be stopped now
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| We got too much cake
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| They pinching pennies, while I’m muscling for meals
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| And the muscle be that muzzle, when I stuff it in your grill
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| Stuffed shells — thanks to crack, I crack
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| Crab and lobsters, not all mobsters
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| Imposters — got cha!
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| Boy, I got an eagle view, slanted on my balcony
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| Can only stay a week or two, so many people out for me I bulletproofed the Maybach
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| Got a killer’s intuition
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| Holding on that mack 11, Makaveli premonition
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| Waiting on my Suge Knight
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| One nation under God, since I chose a thug’s life
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| Guess I gotta’play my part
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| Never will I die, my name symbolize
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| The hustle for young killers coming from the other side
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| Some things your money can’t buy
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| Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride
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| I’m large, my black car
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| Menagin’black broads, massage for frauds
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| I’m livin’large, sellin’fat rocks
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| In the Killin’Field of hip-hop
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| Runnin’up on the car, you get popped, mopped and dropped!
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| I’m The Boss! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Maybach Music 2 , by - Rick Ross. Song from the album Deeper Than Rap, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп