Lyrics Rick Ross – B.M.F. (Blowin’ Money Fast)
Text:
I think I’m Big Meech, Larry Hoover
Whipping work, hallelujah
One nation, under God
Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
Getting work, hallelujah
One nation, under God
Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
My Rolls Royce triple black, I’m geechee ho
Ballin’ in the club, bottles like I’m Meech ho
Rozay, that’s my nickname
Cocaine runnin’ in my big vein
Self-made, you just affiliated
I build it ground up, you bought it renovated
Talking plenty capers nothing’s been authenticated
Funny you claimin’ the same bitch that I’m penetratin’
Hold the bottles up, where my comrades?
Where the fuckin’ felons? Where my dogs at?
I got that Archie Bunker
And it’s so white, I just might charge you double
I think I’m Big Meech, Larry Hoover
Whipping work, hallelujah
One nation, under God
Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
I think I’m Big Meech, Larry Hoover
Getting work, hallelujah
One nation, under God
Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
These motherfuckers mad that I’m icy
Stunt so hard make them come and indict me
It’s an Audemars, hundred racks at least
Look at yourself, now look at me
You can’t see a nigga, I’m what you used to be
Look at it this way, you niggas sideways
Always getting money my nigga, crime pays
So fuck a nigga, I’m self-made
You a sucker nigga, I’m self-paid
This for my broke niggas, this for my rich niggas
Got a hundred on a head of a snitch nigga
I think I’m Big Meech, Larry Hoover
Whipping work, hallelujah
One nation, under God
Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
I think I’m Big Meech, Larry Hoover
Getting work, hallelujah
One nation, under God
Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
Styles P:
The thirty-six holes leave you bleedin’ fam
Word to them thirty-six O’s in a kilogram
Blunt tip, orange like caviar
Wilding out, fishtailing Subaru rally car
Out the passenger, letting the automatty off
A egg of that girl I’ll knock ya mommy and ya daddy off
Fuck around and knock the emblem on the Caddy off
Four shooters bugging out, blicking at ya Caddy doors
Did I mention guns from Red Dead Redemption
Nine mils, fifty clip extensions
Coke is like a mattress in the hood, I’m flipping on it
And the money’s like a chair, I’m sitting on it
I think I’m Big Meech, Larry Hoover
Whipping work, hallelujah
One nation, under God
Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
I think I’m Big Meech, Larry Hoover
Getting work, hallelujah
One nation, under God
Real niggas getting money from the fucking start
