[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
Ugh
Floating in my Phantom
Life could be a fantasy, the thoughts that I could fathom
Foes dying rapidly, the currency I handle
Could cause a small catastrophe, can all you n***as handle?
Simple as a sack of weed
Had to drop 80 carats, rose gold masterpiece
Order me a hundred pounds, burn them like a bag of leaves
Motherfuck an interview, got a full magazine
And fuck what you 'finna do, caught up in the guillotine
N***as in my entourage, the crackers call it killin team
Embraced by the Underworld, realest n***as fuck with me
N***a got his chain took, with his n***as in the club
Shit done fizzled up, all my n***as game UP