Maybach Music III

J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League
My garage is flawless, under a hundred thou' ain't allowed
Maybach triple white like I'm ridin' in a cloud
No denim on my seats, baby, you gon' need a towel
Ride sexy through the city, see me, you will be aroused
My bankroll so well-endowed
Pull bitches from MIA to ATL in style
And in crowds, catch me in Tao
On the strip in Vegas, chillin', fillin' bitches' faces with babies
Bitch, bite your tongue, this just ain't a Mercedes
Tell the ATF I'm ridin' with another three-eighty
That's my car cost, y'all thought I would fall off?
That was just a small loss, we can have a ball-off
Fly to NY, meet me at the Waldorf
Astorian, architecture Victorian
Ridin' in the past like you're drivin' a DeLorean
Hard times, never heard of those
In the 'Bach, my feet kicked up
Gettin' my dick sucked with the curtains closed
And for the record, kid, my final question is
"How your bitch gon' feel in that when you two pull up next to this?"
Hahaha
Maybach Music, nigga
Everybody knows
How the story goes
Money and clothes
They gon' come and go
But guess who stays the same? (Ha-ha)
You gon' see the name (ugh, yeah)
Stroll real slow when the curtains roll
Yo, piff that I'm blowin' on is fuckin' up the ozone
Plus, I keep a dope line, similar to Coldstones (ugh)
Ice cream (ugh), pipe dreams
Is what they have when I pull up in that light thing (yeah)
I put a hurtin' on, I got the curtains drawn
Whoever ain't gettin' shitted on, I'm squirtin' on (ha)
I'm in the six-deuce, fifty-sevens for the help (yeah)
Chopper in the trunk, forty-five for the belt (belt)
Bunch of wax dummies, all you guys gonna melt (melt)
Live for your kids (ugh), die for yourself (die)
Bottles in the sky if you ride for the wealth (ride)
Peas on the block, pies on the shelf
If I ain't in the back of the 'Bach, I ain't in nothin' else
Haha, I'm somethin' else
Everybody knows
How the story goes
Money and clothes
They gon' come and go
But guess who stays the same?
You gon' see the name
Stroll real slow
Hunh
J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League
Ugh
Cigar, please
I came alive like a moth in the summertime (ugh)
Japanese wheel, blades, all samurai
Shine brighter than them bitches on the other side
Time to make a blind motherfucker recognize
Ammunition got the competition nonexistent
Had the bubble crack, but didn't have a pot to piss in
I'll double that, how dare you try to knock a nigga?
Street scholar, graduated, no father figure
Still tote chrome, check my chromosomes
Meet me halfway with things in a mobile home
Money machines, yeah, they ring Like a mobile phone
I'm a 7-Up and need a Coca-Cola loan
I'm in the hood like I'm James Evans
Cashmere handmade sweater
Me and money got a vendetta
Lookin' back, to tell the truth, I could've did better (woo)
Parents never had a good job
Now it's Black American Express cards
Ugh
Maybach Music
Rozay