Tekster: Rick Ross. Other. Mafia Music (Remix).

(feat. The Game, Fat Joe & Ja Rule)

[The Game:]
Yeah! Maybach Music, Lamborghini level
Who's that cheddar better than the rat killa
That nigga that busts gaps quicker, and he go back nigga
The mafia way toast it up like Sopranos
And when it starts snowin', I push it like pianos
Back in the Lambo, like I was born with it
Makaveli porpouse shoot up the [? ] with it
From the cradle to the grave on this 22s
Before I take my last breath I let them semi nudes
Is there a heaven for a nigga with the crucifix
So much ice in it makes it all gin & juice with this
B O double S that's my nigga ROSS
And that's my Cali connect, cause I can get it crossed
Use the products in the bath and watch that bitch flow
Couple years pass now it's skiis on the big boat
Take a shortcut, round the Pacific
Throw the Ak in the Atlantic
That's Mafia Livin'!

[Ja Rule:]
Guess who is beezack, yeah nigga you guess
Who shot ya, I spit murder, the music is mafia
The swag is capable but that's just comparison
It's impossible like they'll get our move
And I trip out of the spoon, infectious the hood
It's a cold afternoon, you get shot at your home
Now I smell pussy
Pussy got lips but it don't talk to me
That's why you my bitch and you on my dick
Cause I fucked you up once, fucked you up twice
And you still talking shit
What must I do to get through to you?
Kindly get off my dick
For that chchchchoppin' get the popopopopoppin'of a niggas that been mouthin of
Read in between the lines when you hear me talk
Go on get outta line this is ruin y'all

[Fat Joe:]
I'm a nigga 'til I die, and I ain't even try
See the murder in my eye, nigga fuck the other side
I don't give a fuck, I will bring you Jerry cups
Yayo is it's bottom bitch, Banks is the gali girl
Don't worry about Whoo Kid, [? ]
Right into the tower and big pistol not to Dre [? ]
Don't let me catch nausea,
I don't smoke the card man, he can't even help it
Help him, bigger than Maybach Music
Got them choppers man, don't make excuses
Hits out the prop, they call me Big Papi
Even if you shot me you still couldn't stop me
Still went to Africa, still wore a big chain
Where you got robbed at? Nigga on the same stage
I say shit that you can't say, cause I ain't snitch
I ain't bitch made!

[Rick Ross:]
David beat Goliath
Triple black beams, lord forgive me for my sins
I put hits on all you niggas including some more friends
Money come and go, but the trill will remain
Bitch I keep it real like I still dealin' kane
Realest shit I wrote and I put this on this quote
Before I had a flow I had a kilogram of coke
Money on the flow, 20 homies on the books
Fat mark boss but I'm runnin with the crooks
No need for a vest that I suffocate the flash
[? ] anticipatin' death
Let the riffle sing cause I have a dream
My carrer just got king in a tuff full of cream
Pink champagne seem to take away the pain
While the blue [? ] is penetrating all the lames
Money ain't the thang, bitch that's a lie
It only controls every bitch that's alive
Money manifest, haters gotta die
Tia neva told you that that muthafucker rides
Niggas take insides, crack smokin' wides
Crackin'crabs at the table, count the cash, crack the wine
Snakes gotta feel it, beef neva squash
It's time of my embark on my million man march
A month of the dark, name me the victim
In a sweet [? ]
Markey snops, markey stops
Then I give that 50 cent a marquesse pops
A put a milli on it, this pussy don't want it
Show up in his hood with the woods by demony
Nigga this a gift, maybe you could live
My music is the mob, it is what it is
Strap to a tee, it's real as it gets
Only Boss gettin' money with the Bloods & the Crips
AMEN!