Lyrics Ali Bomaye - The Game, 2 Chainz, Rick Ross

Ali Bomaye

Get my people out them chains nigga
I mean handcuffs, time to man up
Put my hands up?
Fuck you sayin' bruh
Cause I’m a black man, in a Phantom
Or is it cause my windows tinted?
Car cost 300 thou' and I blow Indo in it
You mad cause your daughter fuck with me on spring break
Well, I’mma fuck her 'til the springs break
Yeah, roll another one cause I’m winning
In my four door looking real photogenic
Gentleman attire, in threads that won’t expire
I’m in a class of my own, my teacher got fired
Money getting long, pussy rate keep rising
Versace outfit cost me 3,000
From the P houses, did it from the wee hours
Selling that chicken no lemon pepper, no sweet and sour
First you get the power, then you get respect
I’m getting so much money I can buy ya bitch
Take it how you wanna, if you wanna take it
I like clubs where all the women working naked
Fell in love with a waitress what the fuck I’m thinking
Bought that ho a ring it was for her pinky
Uhn, that’s pimpin' that’s slick
Got a bottle of cologne that cost more than your rent
Fuck y’all mad at me for
Got a black card, and a black phantom
With a white bitch in Idaho, I do the same thing in (Montana)
Got a thick bitch in Atlanta, got a redbone in the Chi
Got two chains, they two-tone, two hundred racks, no lie (true)
Ali Bomaye!
Ali Bomaye!
I’m bout to rumble in the jungle in these new Kanye’s
Ali Bomaye!
Ali Bomaye!
My lawyer threw them gloves on and beat another case
Fuck y’all mad at me for, cause my belt got two G’s on it
Her bag got two C’s on it, my daughter’s stroller got D’s on it
Free Big Meech, Free Boosie and C-Murder
Like New Orleans, like Baltimore, come to Compton you’ll see murders
And my AR see murders, that’s beef nigga no burgers
I’m insane and you Usain, nigga better turn on them burners
Got coke swimming in that glass jar, bitch go turn on them burners
Got dope to sell in this hotel, no half price, no retail
You a bitch nigga, no female, I smack niggas, Sprewell
I’m on the block like D 12, I got the white, no D-12
Like a little nigga in Africa, I was born toting that K
And that’s real shit, no Will Smith, and no Nona Gaye
But they yellin'…
Ali Bomaye!
Ali Bomaye!
Thank God that a nigga seen another day
Ali Bomaye!
Ali Bomaye!
Got a chopper and a bottle fuck it let 'em spray
I take my case to trial, hire the Dream Team
Robbie Kardashian, Johnnie Cochran, I seen things
I dream big, I think sharp
Inhale smoke, Hawaiian tree bark
Humble yourself, you not a G, keep it one with yourself
Run to niggas for help, favors I keep one on the shelf
I got rifles with lasers, swing it just like the majors
Hit you right above navel, now you swimming in pavement
Gold medals on my neck, I call it Michael Phelps
Hoes settling for less, I call 'em bottom shelf
Niggas tough on them blogs and never did nothing at all
On the road to the riches, bitches not tagging along
Unless it’s ass in a thong, hit that ass and I’m gone
Disrespect my nigga Boss and I’m flashing the chrome
I’m waving the Tec, Tity spraying the Mac
Extendos in the back, gonna lap
Got a bitch that look like Laila Ali sitting in my lap
Got a call from Skateboard, pick 'em up at Lax
Speaking skateboards, where Tune at?
Fuck with him, I’ll break a skateboard on a nigga back
2 Chainz!
Skateboard on a nigga track
No lie, No Lie already got a plaque
Mama got a house, daughter got accounts
Just to think a nigga like me started with a ounce
Bad bitches and D-boys, we bring 'em out
If them niggas pussy, we douche 'em, we clean 'em out
This the voice of ghetto intelligence
If you got work, go to work, don’t work at your residence
…For presidents
Word to Muhammad, that triple beam is heaven-sent
Riding through the jungles in that muthafuckin' elephant
That’s a gray ghost, with the ears on it
Swimming through the hood like it got fins on it (Tell 'em!)
You know I got that work on the foreman grill
Weigh the muthafuckas in, made another mill'
Got a nigga feeling like Cassius Clay
Thrilla in Manilla, nigga want it whip his ass today