Lyrics Rick Ross – Fire Hazard

Who the fuck you think you fuckin’ with, I’m a fuckin’ earner
Ring the fuckin’ fire alarm, here come the money burners
My money burnin’, my money burnin’, my money burnin’
You see my money burnin’, money burnin’, money burnin’

When it come to these bitches, I’m still a backbreaker
Let the vocals get the pussy, let the track rape her
Tires on the rims skinny but they fat paper
Like I’m fresh out, bitch it’s time to stack paper
Port of Miami, my Chevy still candy
My chopper still fully, I empty it gladly
Never Hollywood even though I got it good
I ain’t gotta goon, but fuck it somebody gotta do it
Last week you may have heard that we got into it
Now the boy missin’ bitch you heard how them Gotti’s do it
Last week you may have heard that we got into it
Now the boy missin’ bitch you heard how them Gotti’s do it

I’m cooking a brick which is my signature dish
Time to feed all my niggas this Columbian fish
Yellow tail, red snapper, wood chopper, gold yachtmaster
Got a broad in Baltimore who movin’ all the raw
With pink diamond Audemars I never saw before
When that chopper clap it drop like a Dre beat
Stray dog ass bitches wanna give me rabies
When your pockets fat them bitches stay in heat
Them niggas trap clothes, we gonna stay and eat
Them boys fire hazards when they got them choppers on ’em
Fuck crime stopper, better call em helicopters on ’em
Definition of slidin’, 187
Represent your side, only thugs go to heaven

I grew up watchin’ columbian drug lords
Who ever knew I would afford cologne by Tom Ford
Trips to Hawaii with Diddy on Concordes
Quarter milli in the Louis, bitch pretty as Apollonia
I got a funny feelin’ fuckin’ Feds watchin’ me
At this point only the goverment could stop me
20 mill in four years it’s a Mobilary
Bon Jovi in this bitch blow for everybody
Ricky Ross, Ric Flair, black watch, brick fare
Never Hollywood even though I got it good
I ain’t got a goon but fuck it somebody gotta do it