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letra de dead presidents - rick ross

[intro: rick ross]
rather you than me
if you’ve been f-cking with me from port of miami
it’s been h-ll of a f-cking journey
(m-m-maybach music) ain’t nothin’ changed, n-gga
lil’ stronger, lil’ wiser, maybe a lil’ more violent
blame it on america, f-ck it (beat billionaire)
huh!

[verse 1: rick ross]
i’m pullin’ off the lot, i bought it cash (woah)
her future bright, don’t give a f-ck about her past (woah)
her -ss be lookin’ good inside the leggings (woah)
but i notice that she missin’ all her edges (woah)
i run the game just by runnin’ with the felons (woah)
poor att-tude and got rich n-gga calisthenics (woah)
walkin’ in the courtroom sippin’ on a beverage (woo)
i know the judge so i got a lot of leverage (woo)
p-ssin’ on these b-tches is a fetish (r. kelly)
fully loaded .60s smokin’ on a seven (all ready)
your dawg get a dime, you never wrote a letter (woah)
still in a box, got him rappin’ acapella (woah)
can’t trust no people f-ckin’ with the reverend (woah)
i got a chopper boy, don’t make me be the devil (woah)
he knockin’ on the door and know the p-ssword (woo)
gave me his blessings boy, i’m hotter than the last verse (woo)

[chorus: jeezy & yo gotti]
dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents (now what you want?)
dead presidents, dead them dead presidents (now what you need?)
let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ n-ggas militant
let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent (now what you want?)
dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents (now what you need?)
dead presidents, dead them dead presidents (that’s what you want)
fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

[verse 2: future]
i got thirty white b-tches like tommy lee
i make drug money, n-gga, i make blood money
on my third p-ssport and i’m geechie as f-ck
i got wet stripper p-ssy at the airport
i got bowlingreen dollars on my chopper
bussin’ down a hundred bales in the bathtub
f-ck this philippine p-ssy in some house shoes
i got dope money, n-gga, i got war wounds
get to the clutchin’ on the hammer, ain’t no dance moves
i was posted on the, stoop, hangin’ with my haitians
the murder’s on the, news, all front pages
young n-ggas catchin’ bodies, ain’t no relations
i was stackin’ ben franks and bought some fiji
they robbed you two times in a row, that’s a repeat
you into f-ckin’ n-ggas hoes ’cause they easy
i’m in here f-ckin’ n-ggas wives, ball breezy
she gotta f-ck me like she love me, like she need me
i got my maybach flooded out with extra tvs
i make a movie every single f-ckin’ day
i john travolta when i flaunt that patek face

[chorus: jeezy & yo gotti]
dead presidents (pluto), dead, d-dead presidents (now what you want?)
dead presidents, dead them dead presidents (now what you need?)
let’s go to war, yeah, all my lil’ n-ggas militant
let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent (now what you want?)
dead presidents, dead, d-dead presidents (now what you need?)
dead presidents, dead them dead presidents (that’s what you want)
fed sentences, fed, f-fed sentences
let’s go to trial, we guilty ’til proven innocent

[verse 3: jeezy]
let’s go!
heinz on these n-ggas, got the yellow bracelet
check off in my pocket like the yellow pages
f-ck you n-ggas was when i was ashy, n-gga?
loafers in the chop, i keep it cl-ssy, n-gga
build a empire, yeah, that was my state of mind
motherf-ck ’em all, yeah, that was my state of mind
keep the blocks over there, we call it legoland
meanwhile, the kids smokin’ like it’s amsterdam
dope boy pres’, you know who got the troops
sixteen when i bought my first rollie
legend in my hood just like i’m escobar
never ride dirties in the extra car

[outro: producer tag]
maybach music

- rick ross

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