Maybach Music Lyrics - Trilla - Rick Ross

What is this? Maybach music 

I like this Maybach music 

Sweet! 

Ha ha ha! 

Come and take a ride 

Come and take a ride 

Billionaire 

Yayo 

Justice League 

57 years, yes! 

Blood for a D-Boy 

Hand my mack 11 to the engineer to record 

Got the baddest women in the world for me to feed on 

Double deck yacht, docked Boss, blowing weed up 

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Revenue incredible, it put me on a pedestal 

Columbia to Mexico, I figure there was a better route 

Look at me, a model now 

Models and bottles 'round 

A Blood holla', ballin' 

But the boys in blue, they shot 'em down 

Gang-affiliated, colors prosecutors painted 

'Cause the niggas I employed, name synonymous with Mi-Yayo 

Instrumental that are mental, Maybach kind of mental 

400 off the lot, the block is monumental 

Some things your money can't buy 

Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride 

In the rear, so many instruments I hear 

Tucked behind curtain, no sign to fear, Ross! 

I'm higher than a leer 

This Maybach music, designer shit I wear 

May cause you to lose it 

Photos 

Close your eyes and inhale the smoke 

It's Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote, nigga 

5 ounces, take a toke 

Of this Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote 

Boss! 

Young! 

Fuck it then! 

Black Maybach, white seas, black piping 

Remind me of Paul McCartney and Mike fighting 

You know, The Girl Is Mine 

Life's A Bitch, so The Whole World Is Mine 

The six-deuce long, the curtains are drawn 

Perfectly like a Picasso, Rembrandts and Rocco's 

I'm a major player, 40-40's in Vegas at the Palazzo 

They said it was not so 

Certain things that money can't buy 

Like being this fly 

'Til then, I'm just gonna' ride 

I'm like G-Rap with better transportation 

On the road to the riches, reach my Final Destination 

And the lair, closer to a leer 

Say a Prayer, hope I get ta' see her 

When I disappear from here, baby, yeah 

But I don't see the ending through these millionaire lenses 

Just the Two M's on the emblem 

The partition roof, translucent and Humador 

Whereigerators, where Ace of Spades, or two I store 

True story, my closet is like two stories 

Straight to the happy ending, 'cause I don't do stories 

Shawn Corey, real rap 

The Maybach is bananas, peel back 

You feel that? 

Young! C'mon! 

Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach 

8-track episodes, been doing this since way back 

Since way back, since way back 

8-track episodes, been doing this since way back! 

Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach 

8-track episodes, been doing this since way back 

Since way back, since way back 

8-track episodes, been doing this since way back! 

Boss! 

Can't be stopped now 

We got too much cake 

They pinching pennies, while I'm muscling for meals 

And that muscle be that muzzle, when I stuff it in your grill 

Stuffed shells, thanks to crack, I crack 

Crab and lobsters, not all mobsters 

Imposters, got cha! 

Boy, I got an eagle view, slanted on my balcony 

Can only stay a week or two, so many people out for me 

I bulletproofed the Maybach 

Got a killer's intuition 

Holding on that mack 11, Machiavelli premonition 

Waiting on my Suge Knight 

One nation under God, since I chose a thug's life 

Guess I gotta play my part 

Never will I die, my name symbolize 

The hustle for young killers coming from the other side 

Some things your money can't buy 

Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride 

I'm large, my black car 

Menagin' black broads, massage for frauds 

I'm livin' large, my fat rocks 

I see the kill in the field of hip-hop 

Runnin' up on the car, you get popped, mopped and dropped 

I'm the Boss!