[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 ni**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
Motherf**k an interview, got a full magazine
And f**k what you 'finna do, caught up in the guillotine
Ni**as in my entourage, the crackers call it ???
Embraced by the Underworld, realest ni**as f**k with me
Ni**a got his chain took, with his ni**as in the club
Shit done fizzled up, all my ni**as game UP