Busta Rhymes, Trey Songz, Rick Ross - Til We Die lyrics

I got whatever I signed
You wanna hop in, bitch come and go
Just have to have your mouth wide
If you know that you plan on coming on
On for what you
And if you think we’re gonna stop
That’s just absurd
My middle finger’s in the sky
Screamin’ fuck a hater til the
Day a nigga die

Yea, I got ‘em yellin’ "Oh God, Lord"
Presence fresh, Gillette razor sharp
Tom Ford
Fuck G4s, I charter private Concords
And shoot through the sky like
Missiles when they dodge ball
Toast them bottles with the booze
Smell and stink like old money
Buried in the king’s tomb
When you think we smell funny
Certain niggas wanna watch ‘em
When it comes to money I’m a rose fragrance
Watch the flower blossom
When it comes to bread
Y’all niggas know it’s me
I articulate beautiful like a poetry
Hoes bring me that paper just
Like they owing threes
Triple my revenue, God bless my rosaries
Listen, that’s why your witness
And your highness
We’re celebratin’ success and sippin’
On the finest
Most you motherfuckers need to learn
To stand behind us
When we come and dismantle you niggas
Quick and leave you spineless
But that’s for you to digest

I got whatever I signed
You wanna hop in, bitch come and go
Just have to have your mouth wide
If you know that you plan on coming on
On for what you
And if you think we’re gonna stop
That’s just absurd
My middle finger’s in the sky
Screamin’ fuck a hater til the
Day a nigga die

She see me stackin’ cheese in my satin sheets
Silver SLR, smokin’ lavender leaf
Yellow Jesus piece, I still feed the streets
I’m getting skull, that Ferrari seats
Riders at the top, get arrogant on ‘em
Sit above the law, you can rat if you wanna
My money mandatory, slip you a deposit slip
Money green, Maserati with a body kit
Dead presidents, got my name on the blim
Fast in the residence based on a tip
Playin innocent
The state attorney want a grip
I’ve got enough, get with puff
I could make a flip fuck the charts
Time for me to top the Forbes list
I’m a fat boy, but I’m on that Porsche shit
You see that money? I’m touchin’ mine
It’s Rozay, Trey Songz, Busta Rhymes

I got whatever I signed
You wanna hop in, bitch come and go
Just have to have your mouth wide
If you know that you plan on coming on
On for what you
And if you think we’re gonna stop
That’s just absurd
My middle finger’s in the sky
Screamin’ fuck a hater til the
Day a nigga die

Screamin’ fuck a hater til the
Day a nigga die
Hand on my heart while giving thanks
And continued bustin’ these bottles open
Passin’ the time, securin’ lanes
Gurkin’ forgot smokin’
Controllin’ every room when I
Enter there start toastin’
Undecided on what to drive
Think the garage is open
As we do the impossible
It seems successfully manifestin’ a thought
And livin’ out the dream
Leave an unforgettable mark of mud
Documented like adding a chapter to
The Bible with my blood, listen
Every day is like a weekend
Like we never give a fuck
Celebratin’ for no reason
A convoy full of trucks, ain’t no question
We all eatin’
Then it’s silence when I talk like
I’m hearin’ the Lord speakin’ now
Yeah, as they complain about my ways
Cuz I’ll be grindin’
Never sleepin’ just be ballin’ on for days
Be fuckin’ every model
And be weedin' out the strays
And then I’m bouncin’ that Bugatti
Slowly totin’ on the haze
Then we pass this shit to Trey

I got whatever I signed
You wanna hop in, bitch come and go
Just have to have your mouth wide
If you know that you plan on coming on
On for what you
And if you think we’re gonna stop
That’s just absurd
My middle finger’s in the sky
Screamin’ fuck a hater til the
Day a nigga die