Song lyrics
You could die young out here,
Mess around and die before 21 out here,
Mama's stressin', seen them ratchets in the dresser,
She not askin' questions,
She seen the vests and seen other kids in the casket restin';
Weed so loud, they got surround sound,
Smokin' good shit ‘cause they tryna take me back to some hood shit,
Any club, any fly affair
If they start shootin', all they remember is Nas was there,
Some homies of yours bangin' affiliation on their personal time,
Conflict with business can hurt down the line.
It's something that you ain't have nothing to do with,
Your man confrontation end up gettin' you hit,
Learn how to draw the line from when we hang with the shooters,
Strippers, dealers and killers, leeches and opportunists,
Where I come from it's ruthless, air you out from the Ubers,
Tutored by coke movers, put holes through ya,
You wouldn't get that from me, though, you'd overlook me,
Lookin' like I just get to that money and stay in some pussy,
Got a pretty real dope life,
Fly nigga from the other side, hecklers, PK's, 9's and .45's,
7.62's deer-hunting rifle shells, life is hell,
Pussy sweeter than wine tasting,
But we won't self-indict ourselves,
Be our own prosecutor, won't 25-to-life ourselves,
We ‘bout that moola, rich shooters.
[Chorus: Rick Ross & Nas]
You gettin' money, got a body then you one of us,
Trust,
You gettin' money, got a body then you one of us.
[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Calculatin', touchin' money, these niggas masturbatin',
Tailored clothes, fashion magazines, they fascinated,
Double-M umbrella, the feds call it tax shelter,
Hit a million, they conspire to send the rats at you,
Cha-cha-cha-cha, slide, catch me on that other side.
Foreign cars, private jets, high rate of homicide,
Marc Jacobs chocolate diamonds, they for my white bitch,
Atheist, but her pussy could be so righteous.
Follow the rules, never let a man take your jewels,
And if he do, double back make sure he make the news,
It ain't arrest, they ain't a pussy till it's time to bust.
You gettin' money, got a body then you one of us.
[Chorus: Rick Ross & Nas]
You gettin' money, got a body then you one of us,
Trust,
You gettin' money, got a body then you one of us.
[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
Dice game, headcrackers, time to get it back,
Only one in the studio that could get a pack,
Raw deal, rob a nigga like it's on my appeal,
Closest friends do us best, regardless how I feel.
Went to the lot and got ‘em bitches on the same day,
Straight to the jeweler, and did the watches the same way,
Young saw on FaceTime talkin' cake time,
Next crib I build got to cross state lines.
Niggas hate how I wear my heart on my sleeve,
And half the team got the choppers with the shoulder slings,
It ain't a rust, stay in the trap till you a hundred up,
You gettin' money, got a body then you one of us.
[Chorus: Rick Ross & Nas]
You gettin' money, got a body then you one of us,
You gettin' money, got a body then you one of us.
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