Stack On My Belt Lyrics - Rick Ross

Self-Made niggas man, you already know 

I remember we use to watch the coke dry 

Now a nigga crib gotta a boat dock 

MMG navy nigga, high tide sellers 

D.C. air-force, G-5s are better, you already know nigga 

All gold sky-dwellers, fly nigga shit 

Bel Air sippin', Ciroc pissin', foreign car dippin' 

Young black millionaires nigga, we build the empires 

I spend a stack on my belt, I swear you niggas are watching 

I gave a stack to my bitch, she the shit out the project 

Spend a stack on my belt, therefore you bitches are stalking 

A half a mill on the car, that's why you niggas are talking 

Spend a stack on my belt, as if you think I was flogging 

Spend a stack on my belt, and you could still see my boxers 

Spend a stack on my belt, that how I blew your deposits 

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Stack on the belt, double M this shit popping 

Spend a stack on my belt, got bitches asking my name 

Spend a stack on the belt, she like fuck how we came 

Double all in the front, ya'll niggas stay in your lane 

Spend a stack on my belt, don't even ask 'bout the change 

Spend a stack on the belt, cause I knew she a wife 

Spend a stack on the belt, cause my fooleys on time 

Spend a stack on the belt, I got your bitch on my mind 

The world is mine 

Spend a stack on my belt, better tell these rappers to chill 

Hold up that's Earlesman, more H and I be more trap ass for real 

And I got mosquino, Ye know that R.I.P. flow, here go 

That type of freak show, with three shows that we don't need no more help 

That Givenchy go for three, just me Rozay and the clique 

I make these bitches suck on Cs, you make them suck on there teeth, let's get it 

Ralph, Klauph, meow, they bounce, we hit, ab-lib, your BITCH, her mouth 

Stack on the belt, just know that's nothing to me 

My soldiers real in the 'ville, you WWE 

Of course we see them punks faking, but we leave them slump shaking 

Don't believe your cane stories, I should leave ya'll undertaking 

A stack on my belt, 250 my ride 

Went from renting these mother-fuckers to owning 4 with no miles 

Photos 

I pray my souls is in tact, passion in the bulk of my rhyme 

And when I hit that heat game I'm this close to LeBron 

I'm gone 

I'm burning the back, I'm swerving Maybach 

I Versace my belt, I done Hermes my flag 

Got a stack around my waist, keep my bitch on the leash 

She goin' eat this head up, on this dick she goin' feast 

Time fuck with the pleats, my place is packed 

Red hoes in my stable, ya my babies is bad 

She spent a stack on my belt, now she calling me father??? giving mollies to models 

I manage these strippers, Giuseppe's with zippers 

Playing with the whole slab, niggas started with niggas 

Rose gold on my wrist, rose gold on my shades 

Spend a stack on my belt, 100 done on my face 

Spend a stack on my belt, so I could stunt when I shine 

Get the mac off the shelf, keep these pussies in line 

Spend a stack on my belt, 10 at the bar 

Blow a mill on a whip serving niggas that raw 

Spend a stack on the belt, Versace my kind 

Put 5 on his life, put 5 in his mind 

Spend a stack on the belt, bitch we the real niggas 

Plaques on the wall, born to kill niggas 

Stack on that belt, ho 

Stack on that belt, ho 

Spend a stack on the belt, ho 

Gotta stack for the freak show, all I need is a ... 

Double M, YMCMB boy