Rick Ross – Kyrie Lyrics

Kyrie Lyrics by Rick Ross

Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving

Stephen Curry, Under Armour on my gang
They hit me close range, bitch ain’t hit a thing
Cut the dog food up with the (?)
The junkies they hit ’em like a canon ball
Don’t nobody do it like Miami does
Bought 20 kilos, coulda bought Miami subs
Let her snort a line so she can get a buzz
She says she want a dime, I told her get a dub
My city one big hospice, I could pull the plug
Them bitches it’s us before we pulling up
Keep it gangster, 20 bottles of Bel-Air
And got all of the dope boy’s hands in the air

Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

I wanna build a mansion in Port-Au-Prince
Speaking creole with all of my Haitian friends
Kilos for the low and Bahamas the (?)
Everything is diamond, can’t (?) in a drought
I’m breezing through the beats, shout my nigga Pauchillo
Dave Grubman in the building, toast like the Goodfellas
20 million, baby that’s my water bill
Got Puffy on the phone talking a quarter bil
Piece of honey now I’m talking Taco Bell
Youngest nigga in the US with 100 mil
Ain’t too many hoes I haven’t done for real
Money in my pocket, boy I’m number one for real
Benz running and I’m sitting on the trunk
Rolling up a blunt, getting my dick sucked

Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

I see you fucking up like you a Donald Trump
I cast a vote and get a pussy nigga slumped
I gave my dog a stack, that shit was barely lunch
He got it done and called me back like batter’s up
He hit a bystander which didn’t matter much
And then I ate that pussy like Captain Crunch
We cruising (?) like we was Mexican
When it come to your hustle, exhibit excellence
Step to my clique and you’ll meet the exorcist
If you’re ever in debt then you’ll be the deficit
In the oval office and I’m iced out
Ankle monitor beeping in the white house

Bitches screaming for me like Beyonce
Work, jumping out the gym like it’s Lebron James
This other type of money even make me nervous
I’m standing out the roof, jersey Kyrie Irving
Work, work, work, work, work

Rick Ross Website

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