Lyrics Rick Ross – Bel Air

This is the very best of the best
This is top shelf, the caviar of hip-hop
Bel Air

Bel Air, Will Smith

Gold dog tags, tatted up
Tank tops, young niggas living fabolous
Cali hills, Cali weed
Nipsey give a nigga tree by the OZ
Tripping if you think I’m slipping lil nigga please
Looking at the father of the southern renaissance
Elevators in the crib on the intercom
Fully automatic weapons but don’t get along
Got my hands on some money, you better get you some
90210, got on my raging bulls
Cole chilling, paid in full
Now I got the juice, bitches keep it G with me
At the kings game but I got the heat with me
Ten stacks you can’t even take a seat with me
Paparazi taking pics of the freaks with me
Got a crib full of thugs out in Bel Air
In the room full of lungs I can smell air
On another phone call another mil there
Got a clang down in china and its real there
You know they keep it real there
And you know we do the same here

Bel Air, Fresh Prince
Jazzy Jeff, forty bricks

Bel Air, Fresh Prince
Gold bottles, excellent
Shout out to young Hov, my first deal
The transaction, my first meal
Island Def Jam, paradise
Yacht club, sacrifice
Custom clothes killing hoes, (tag me raise the roof
?)
Rumors of being rich, which is really the truth
This nigga smooth like I’m Tony Gwynn
Out in vegas, Mally Mall with a couple friends
They say traps, want they suckers back
I’m out in Bel Air nigga where the fuck you been
Black bottles, bubbling
Black bitches, white bitches all loving him
Jewish mob, I’m a Moscowitz
You can ask Todd, my accomplices
Confident by my many accomplishments
I’m big timing other naggers incompetent
Aguilera, Christine
Same thing thing I charge for the sixteen

Bel Air, Fresh Prince
Jazzy Jeff, forty bricks
Uncle Phil, he was never there
Now we got the baddest bitches laying everywhere
Call your friends over, poetic justice
Janet Jackson braids, time to show me something
Introduce you to my cousin M
Maybe we could shoot a film
To all my jewish friends, L’chaim