King Boss Lyrics - Rick Ross

Run how you want, boss 

Chill how you want, boss 

Floss how you want, boss 

Do whatcha like 

Go rock your chain, boss 

Pour that champagne, boss 

Keep gettin' paid, boss 

Do whatcha like 

As I'm poppin' my collar, black on black antique Impala 

She ain't gotta speak 'cause my speakers let her know 

That I'm ballin' 

They call me the Boss, I be callin' the shots 

It's Ricky Ross, that boy be ballin' a lot 

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That boy be ridin' big, that boy be ridin' rims 

Not the flats but the fish 'cause they just swim 

New York to the West, you a boss if you fresh 

Scuff your shoes, wipe 'em down 

Now get back on your two step 

Stuntin' is boss, shinin' is boss 

Grandaddy kush or the purp, yellow diamonds is boss 

That dime a boss, she fine as a house 

And she drivin' a Porche, she designed for a boss 

Run how you want, boss 

Chill how you want, boss 

Floss how you want, boss 

Do whatcha like 

Go rock your chain, boss 

Pour that champagne, boss 

Keep gettin' paid, boss 

Do whatcha like 

Photos 

Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la 

Do whatcha like 

Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la 

Do whatcha like 

I'm ridin' big, I'm hopin' lanes 

My Chevy thang got these chickens all insane 

Look at my stones tap dancin' on the bezzle 

Bad baby at the Rollie, lap dancin' and wanna kiss me 

Oh, no, 'cause of my chain 

'Cause of my bling like a peacock standin' on my ring 

'Cause I'm a boss, I'm a spend it, I'm a floss 

I'm a winner, you the loss, all these *** 

Sprinkle salt 'cause I'm the pepper in the sauce 

Whatcha feel, whatcha like, whatcha want, what's your type? 

I done seen it, done it twice, bought it up the same night 

'Cause I'm a boss, it's Ricky Ross 

If you buy, if you spend it, *** the cost 

You's a boss, You a boss 

Run how you want, boss 

Chill how you want, boss 

Floss how you want, boss 

Do whatcha like 

Go rock your chain, boss 

Pour that champagne, boss 

Keep gettin' paid, boss 

Do whatcha like 

Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la 

Do whatcha like 

Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la 

Do whatcha like 

Before the rock got whipped and they pistol got ripped 

Before you got any chips, you got permission from the boss 

On a mission for the charts, out-smart my competition 

Composition so sharp, so dark, so vivid 

26's on the old school, Pro Tools session 

Got the old school *** actin' brand new sweatin' 

Brand new tennis chain, fancy pockets on my jeans 

Headed for the walk, dude, fore' they win him on the stage 

Two a day, super pay, stupid *** from a model 

Triple C, a hundred deep and everybody got a bottle 

Got a bottle full of purp, full of work, no leachin' 

Blew 50 last weekend, if you lookin' for a reason 

I'm the boss 

Run how you want, boss 

Chill how you want, boss 

Floss how you want, boss 

Do whatcha like 

Go rock your chain, boss 

Pour that champagne, boss 

Keep gettin' paid, boss 

Do whatcha like 

Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la 

Do whatcha like 

Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la 

Do whatcha like 

That's all Ross, them boys runnin' in the streets 

See them candy paints, Dade County 

Over town, livin' the city brown 

Carol City, Oba Locka 

The whole thrill five of my yayo, I see ya, Ross 

Do whatcha like