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letra de idols become rivals - rick ross

[skit: chris rock]
yo this chris rock! i’m in here with my man ricky rozay. we in here drinkin’ this belaire rosé. that’s how we do it. that’s all we do, belaire rosé! eatin’ wingstop, what you know about wingstop, n-gg-? you don’t know nothin’ about no wingstop. you can’t handle this, n-gg-, you can’t handle, sit down in the corner, shut the f-ck up and take notes, b-tch. just take notes

[intro: rick ross]
i used to see n-gg-s on tv, man
i used to be like, “yo, them n-gg-s so blessed, you know what i’m sayin’?”
if i had that opportunity, you know what i’m sayin’?
(maybach music)
(black metaphor)

[verse 1: rick ross]
d-mn, i grew up on that cash money
bling bling, was well known to flash money
hit the liquor store, after my vic authority
quick to switch a b-tch up, pick up me a thicker shorty
pistol on me, n-gg-, ain’t no pickin’ on me
we veterans so it’s better if you go get your army
a thug holiday is where your body lay
me and trick daddy come from a common place
so us gettin’ money, that’s just a conversation
it’s so hard stayin’ rich and miss the confrontations
cigars in the oval office, ronald reagan
hug barack obama whisper as-salāmu ʿalayk-m
live for the moment, die for the streets
bible on the dash, kilos on the seat
i used to see you n-gg-s on my tv screen
and wondered what was life like, was it all a dream?
and then i met you out on livenation dates
came to the realization that your watch was fake
d-mn… you nearly broke my heart
i really thought you n-gg-s really owned them cars

[interlude: rick ross]
i used to look up to you, n-gg-, uh

[verse 2: rick ross]
hard to point a finger when you live a life of sin
i’ma bring my n-gg-s with me if i lose or win
bought a fleet of cars, let the b-tches tag along
this little thing of ours, not the ones to tattle on
omerta the code, met ball, parties with vogue
still blowin’ thick smoke while you powder your nose
such a head rush until the day the feds rush
that’s when you n-gg-s wish you put your bread up
leased whips, bad blood, that sh-t’ll sink ships
fast money comin’ slow, you better think quick
rap game, so much f-ck sh-t done
that’s why this .45 in my trukfit trunks
f-ck a skateboard, i went and got a wraith, boy
catholic record labels, n-gg-s gettin’ raped, boy
birdman’s a priest, moans in his synagogue
publishin’ is a sin, repent, forgive me, lord
shots fired, home invasion out on palm isle
red beam detonators, who the bomb now?
look you in your eyes, n-gg-, ‘fore i say good night
and pray that mannie fresh’ll get to see the light

[interlude: rick ross]
d-mn, stunna, i loved you, n-gg-
hate it came to this
(maybach music)

[verse 3: rick ross]
you stole them boys pub and bought a foreclosure
scott storch demons in it, which is more poison
i handed over records, never charged a coin
but could sense the sentiment, i’m talkin’ all along
all miami issues, rozay handle for him
same way big ducky do for me in california
never slippin’, got relationships with the trillest n-gg-s
tony draper, j prince and ever jimmy henchmen
plenty k!llers and i know that diddy with it
tyga, chinchilla, really ain’t no penny pinchin’
knew that you would never visit bg
turk came home, take that boy a three piece
shootin’ dope, usin’ c-ke, movin’ like you the folks
sacrificin’ half our life for your new music cult
you would give us self esteem and motivate our drive
but was in our pockets by the time we count to five
i pray you find the kindness in your heart for wayne
his entire life, he gave you what there was to gain
i watched this whole debacle so i’m part to blame
last request, can all producers please get paid?

[outro: rick ross]
can’t believe this sh-t, homie
i still love you, n-gg-
how the f-ck, n-gg-, you touch half a billion, n-gg-
and your team starvin’, n-gg-?
you on an island, n-gg-, you came to my city, n-gg-
i let you in my city, n-gg-
and what hurt me the most, n-gg-
is how you did my brother khaled, n-gg-
khaled was loyal to you, n-gg-
the pain i seen in my brother’s eye, n-gg-
facetimin’ my n-gg-, n-gg-, he took that to the chin, n-gg-
that’s why my n-gg- blessed!
that’s why my n-gg- khaled blessed!
you put my n-gg- in the hole, homie
i don’t feel you for that, my n-gg-
that sh-t hurt me, you under-dig? umm
it’s painful what you see real n-gg-s do
when they get the paper, when they get the bag
you can’t never forget ’bout lil bruh and them
i’ll never forget ’bout lil bruh and them
lil bruh and them, always remember
lil bruh and them, this for lil bruh and them
stunna

- rick ross

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