Lyrics Rick Ross – Made Men

Smoking my favorite berry’s
F65 I call it Rihanna
It got a red top but it’s white like Madonna
Made man, you hear what I said
Having a slumber party all my bitches counting bread
Made man, also known as Papi Chulo
And I’m running straight up in the culo
My wrist always on frio, call me chilly chill
Super head and super head, and I really will
Californication, Motivation in my pocket
Got on my blue Dickie, shout out my nigga Roccett
Still smoking sickie, it ain’t no other option
Not for made niggas and I’m never stopping
I raised the bar, I set the standards
My yayo, Usher Raymond, that bitch just keep on dancing

Dollar bills on top of dollar bills
That’s all I’m throwing, if she wont her momma will
Made niggas, talking a lot of skrill
8 digits a nigga tryna live

Made man, you hear what I said
I got a hundred squares
If you scared, called the feds
Made men, I’m screaming dollar bills
Park the trunk on the Porsche
There they go, Dollar bills

Drake

Riding round the city, plastic cup of Henny
Find a nigga like me, truth to be told, I don’t know many
I say shout my driver Lauren, that’s 62 with curtains
Cant see shit, I don’t know where the fuck I’m at for certain
When it boils down, I’m just a T.O nigga
But bitches tell me that I look just like a creole nigga
New Orleans know it’s love, everytime I’m in town
Shout out my nigga ‘Tez, thats my brother my round
Spending tomorrows money, I call it manana
Off the rack just aint my style, I call it designer
One of my baddest women ever, I call her Rihanna
But that’s cause her name is Rihanna!
I’m in the condo just posting watching Miami kill
I might just walk to the arena and watch it for real
Ashes to ashes, me, Rozay and Khaled
Smoking bull riders, shit moving slow as a ballad
Tattoo on your ass, it’d be nice if you show me
I’m buying bitches furs, Mike Tyson, Naomi
I’ve got the right to do it, it’s only right to do it
Love me some head, and I love a woman that likes to do it
Still love my team, ain’t no other option
Not for made niggas and I’m never stopping
I’m Damon Wayans, just know that homie don’t play that
You know we running my nigga, Young money, Maybach

Chorus

Rick Ross
Black panorama, I call it T-Pain
I got my autotune, that bitch insane
Got my revolver too, I call it Ving Rhames
You still a baby boy, we doing big things
Street niggas, you hear what I said
I got some bad news, Jabar back in the feds
Facing twenty, he just did a dime
Been out a year, look like he finna ride
Genocide, these people killing time
Throw you in a hole, you must be penalised
Soon as you see success, haters reinvest
Miami guns drive, half a million nothing less
Raised the bar, I set the standards
My yayo Mc Hammer, that bitch just keep on dancing
Michael Jackson, let it moonwalk
Set it on the napkin, let it cool off

Chorus