Where my money? I need, I need, I need cash
Where my money? I need, I need, I need cash
Where my money? I need, I need, I need cash
Where my money? I need, I need, I need cash
Where my money? You don't wanna be the one I blast (Ross)
Where my money? You don't wanna be the one I blast (Ross)
Where my money? You don't wanna be the one I blast (Ross)
Where my money? You don't wanna be the one I blast (Ross)
Where my money?

Never try me like a thug
If you do you better duck
I'ma hit em' in his body,
Somebody patching you up
I'ma bust a nigga head,
Somebody wrapping you up
When I ask you for ma shit,
Nigga am I asking too much?
Ridin' dirty in ma Seven deuce
Its dirty, you can tell the truth
I'm dirtier than a reverend
Fighting internal revenue
I'ma get mine,
You can call me Uncle Sam
Used ya for your services,
And I don't give a damn
Slap bush with ma stash
All these taxes and this cash
Got these bitches selling ass
Homicide for the cash
Homicide for the cash
Riding around gunning mass
Summertime son of Sam
Triple C gon gun you down
Twenty birds on this surb
Posted up on the curb
Got a lot of pistol game
So we at ya A-Day
If you owe me a dime
Boy you better give me mine
Cause I'm pulling ma nine
With one thing that's on ma mind

Still waiting on the call
Homie supposed to be my dog
It done been more then a week
He caught himself running off
Yea he bought two, two
But I fronted another three, three
But I'ma get him marked off
For no less than a quarter key
Yea I broke him off,
Now I gotta break him off
He think he using his head,
I gotta take it off
Therefore I'm loosing his head
And then I'm taking off
Mashing in the grand national
Wont break it off
Lemme break it down
I see fifty off a chicken
Every time I break it down
Bad little Bitches shake it
When they break it down
Lemme break it down
I Broke it down,
To the smallest slab
Cause I'm so fat
I got the fiends calling cabs
I'm out here for my stacks
I'm out here for my stacks
From the side of the bridge,
You gotta cross the tracks
Dade county D Boyz at yo front door
Three in the morning and ya know what they knocking fo'

I'm like a professor,
I weigh and I measure
Triple beam on the dresser
Couldn't be fresher
Cookin's my pleasure
Cookies my treasure
Hustle couldn't be better
Muscle you couldn't measure
Niggas feeling the pressure
Pressure they bust pipes
I'm cool with your bitch
Your bitch fuck nice
(See I need that)
Fly hoes on my team
(See I need that)
My hoes will gimmie anything
Grinding back in Savana
Climbing back through Atlanta
Shoot the making, See what shaking
My shit white as Miss Vanna
Its Rick Ross
Rolls-royce when I floss
I'ma big boss
And I never took a loss
(See I need that)
(See I need that)
I might of took a loss
But it wasn't like that (Ross)
So I'm back on my grizzle
Got the streets on sizzle
Its Ricky Rizzle
The rich nizzle
The rich nizzle
Now bitch

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Andrew Harr, Jermaine Jackson, William Roberts