Rick Ross, Rihanna, Juicy J, T.I., Young Jeezy - Pour It Up (Remix) lyrics
William Roberts II
[Rick Ross, Rihanna, Juicy J, T.I., Young Jeezy - Pour It Up Remix lyrics]
Say, Rih-Rih, let's take this shit to the street one-time, you know? (it's the remix)
Throwing hundreds like loose change, still got my money (ay)
Got your broad in that Mulsanne, that Bentley homie (ha ha)
Seats whiter than cocaine, that .40 on me (yeah)
Got me and Chi-Chi, bring broads, mane – she like my homie (let's go!)
I'm King Tut with my gold chain (gold chain), my partner with me, he the dope mane (yeah)
Straight gas nigga, that BP on that E-40, that OG (ay)
These bitch niggas be acting up, these hoes niggas be acting foul (chea)
They'll grind with you, they'll shine with you, be pointing fingers off at your trial (damn)
My Rolls Royce with my driver in it, getting fucked up 'cause I ain't got to drive (yeah)
That Kendrick on them bottles came, poured a swimming pool, now we 'bout to dive (that's right)
Got one room, got three bitches nigga damn right that's where they're supposed to be (yeah)
Two Glock .40s at all time gon' shoot back a nigga shooting me, you know it
Ha ha, yeah
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
All I see is signs, all I see is dollar signs
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Money on my mind, money-money on my mind
Throw it-throw it up, watch it fall out from the sky
Throw it up-throw it up, watch it all fall out
Pour it up-pour it up, that's how we ball out
Throw it up-throw it up, watch it all fall out
Pour it up pour it up, that's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
It's the biggest nigga in the game
Sexy bitches world wide, what's up?
Fuck with me huh? Yeah (M-M-M-M-Maybach Music)
My foreign cars, domestic beefs (huh)
Peter Luger's, the better seats
Dollar after dollar (dollar) bottle after bottle (bottle)
Late for you haters even though my plane charter
Suede Bally shoes, true rude boy
Ferrari 400 horses, we do it for cool points (ha-ha)
Baby, do the math, I'm copping Chanel bags
Talking Belle Harbour, cigars by Hermes (woo)
Know we ran the streets, eating cold bully beef (huh)
Now we at the Grammys, Tom Ford to my feet (ah-hah)
Boss on the avi, Rihanna screensaver
Whenever you see fat boy, I know it mean paper
M-M-Maybach Music
We trippy mane uh
Juicy J pouring up codeine, Benz all white, no chlorine
Bad chick with me got ass and titties, freaky bitch gon' fuck the whole team (yeah ho!)
Ziploc bag full of OG, I go in like a door key
Your girlfriend down on both knees, she catch more balls than a goalie
Purple all in my sprite, I'm high as Denzel on Flight
Scared money don't make no money, you niggas shaky like dice
I'm in the bed with your wife – we popping pills, we going hard
When she with you she a church girl, when she with me she a porn star
Smoking on doobies like cigarettes, which one these strippers give head the best?
Pussy so good that I think I'm in love; what am I saying? It must be the drugs (drugs, drugs)
Pour it up, pop that ass, I make it rain ho (yeah ho!)
I'll make it flood, shorty, you might need a raincoat
Strip clubs and dollar bills – still got more money
Patron shots can I get a refill – still got more money
Strippers going up and down that pole – still got more money
4 o'clock and we ain't going home 'cause I still got more money
Money make the world go round – still got more money
Bands make you girl go down – still got more money
Lot more where that came from – still got more money
The look in your eyes, I know you want some – still got more money
Pour it up, pour it up, that's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
Aight Rih, let get it baby
Turn up!
I catch a case and I go to jail (still got more money)
I came home and went back, oh well (still got more money)
I'm multiplying everything I spend (still got more money)
These trap niggas I represent (still got more money)
It's Hustle Gang and we popping, got big bank rolls in our pockets
Hopping out a foreign vehicle (what), throwing forty Gs, ain't no issue, bitch, bitch!
I'm thorough as it get, official, bitch, bitch!
Better watch your pussy popping – I might wanna come and get you, bitch
Now everywhere you may see me surrounded by bad bitches like Rih-Rih
Got them booty shots, look like Nicki, face and toes pretty, I'm picky
See these trap niggas, they honor me and these rap niggas up under me
Ain't nothing for me to get a hundred keys and then stimulate the economy, like
Yup, hey, yup, yup, hey, yup
OK, OK
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
All I see is signs, all I see is dollar signs
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Money on my mind, money-money on my mind
Throw it-throw it up, watch it fall out from the sky
Throw it up-throw it up, watch it all fall out
Pour it up-pour it up, that's how we ball out
Throw it up-throw it up, watch it all fall out
Pour it up pour it up, that's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
Throwing hundreds like loose change, still got my money (ay)
Got your broad in that Mulsanne, that Bentley homie (ha ha)
Seats whiter than cocaine, that .40 on me (yeah)
Got me and Chi-Chi, bring broads, mane – she like my homie (let's go!)
I'm King Tut with my gold chain (gold chain), my partner with me, he the dope mane (yeah)
Straight gas nigga, that BP on that E-40, that OG (ay)
These bitch niggas be acting up, these hoes niggas be acting foul (chea)
They'll grind with you, they'll shine with you, be pointing fingers off at your trial (damn)
My Rolls Royce with my driver in it, getting fucked up 'cause I ain't got to drive (yeah)
That Kendrick on them bottles came, poured a swimming pool, now we 'bout to dive (that's right)
Got one room, got three bitches nigga damn right that's where they're supposed to be (yeah)
Two Glock .40s at all time gon' shoot back a nigga shooting me, you know it
Ha ha, yeah
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
All I see is signs, all I see is dollar signs
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Money on my mind, money-money on my mind
Throw it-throw it up, watch it fall out from the sky
Throw it up-throw it up, watch it all fall out
Pour it up-pour it up, that's how we ball out
Throw it up-throw it up, watch it all fall out
Pour it up pour it up, that's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
It's the biggest nigga in the game
Sexy bitches world wide, what's up?
Fuck with me huh? Yeah (M-M-M-M-Maybach Music)
My foreign cars, domestic beefs (huh)
Peter Luger's, the better seats
Dollar after dollar (dollar) bottle after bottle (bottle)
Late for you haters even though my plane charter
Suede Bally shoes, true rude boy
Ferrari 400 horses, we do it for cool points (ha-ha)
Baby, do the math, I'm copping Chanel bags
Talking Belle Harbour, cigars by Hermes (woo)
Know we ran the streets, eating cold bully beef (huh)
Now we at the Grammys, Tom Ford to my feet (ah-hah)
Boss on the avi, Rihanna screensaver
Whenever you see fat boy, I know it mean paper
M-M-Maybach Music
We trippy mane uh
Juicy J pouring up codeine, Benz all white, no chlorine
Bad chick with me got ass and titties, freaky bitch gon' fuck the whole team (yeah ho!)
Ziploc bag full of OG, I go in like a door key
Your girlfriend down on both knees, she catch more balls than a goalie
Purple all in my sprite, I'm high as Denzel on Flight
Scared money don't make no money, you niggas shaky like dice
I'm in the bed with your wife – we popping pills, we going hard
When she with you she a church girl, when she with me she a porn star
Smoking on doobies like cigarettes, which one these strippers give head the best?
Pussy so good that I think I'm in love; what am I saying? It must be the drugs (drugs, drugs)
Pour it up, pop that ass, I make it rain ho (yeah ho!)
I'll make it flood, shorty, you might need a raincoat
Strip clubs and dollar bills – still got more money
Patron shots can I get a refill – still got more money
Strippers going up and down that pole – still got more money
4 o'clock and we ain't going home 'cause I still got more money
Money make the world go round – still got more money
Bands make you girl go down – still got more money
Lot more where that came from – still got more money
The look in your eyes, I know you want some – still got more money
Pour it up, pour it up, that's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
Aight Rih, let get it baby
Turn up!
I catch a case and I go to jail (still got more money)
I came home and went back, oh well (still got more money)
I'm multiplying everything I spend (still got more money)
These trap niggas I represent (still got more money)
It's Hustle Gang and we popping, got big bank rolls in our pockets
Hopping out a foreign vehicle (what), throwing forty Gs, ain't no issue, bitch, bitch!
I'm thorough as it get, official, bitch, bitch!
Better watch your pussy popping – I might wanna come and get you, bitch
Now everywhere you may see me surrounded by bad bitches like Rih-Rih
Got them booty shots, look like Nicki, face and toes pretty, I'm picky
See these trap niggas, they honor me and these rap niggas up under me
Ain't nothing for me to get a hundred keys and then stimulate the economy, like
Yup, hey, yup, yup, hey, yup
OK, OK
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
All I see is signs, all I see is dollar signs
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Money on my mind, money-money on my mind
Throw it-throw it up, watch it fall out from the sky
Throw it up-throw it up, watch it all fall out
Pour it up-pour it up, that's how we ball out
Throw it up-throw it up, watch it all fall out
Pour it up pour it up, that's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
That's how we ball out
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