Luxury Tax

[Intro: Lil Wayne] E-Class, I think we got a problem [Verse 1: Lil Wayne] Yeah, big money in this bitch, if you didn't knew Big business, minus the business suit Even I look in the mirror like, "Is it you?" And I say, "I must be the hottest, if it isn't you!" Stay fresh from my top to my tennis shoes New coupe, no top, big tennis shoes Never slipping, even on the side of a swimming pool We don't get ridiculed, we get rid of fools! They said I couldn't play football, I was too small They said I couldn't play basketball, I wasn't tall They said I couldn't play baseball at all And now every day of my life, I ball And they say you ain't great, 'til someone assassinate And I feel like MLK Yeah, "I Have A Dream" to be your worst nightmare And now meet The Boss of The Cartel - ROSS [Verse 2: Rick Ross] I'm a sinner, not Satan Sitting on Lorenzos and I seem really patient Picture the equation People taking pictures and they really getting flagrant Flagging down my spaceship, sergeant sniffing for a fragrance! Yayo! Yayo! He wanna' sniff the yayo! Flying saucer on the hasa, in the casa just to lay low Make more money man, that's the motto for the mob Need a blow-job - my motto, get a model for the job Go hard, no job - hustler, no prob Post up, nigga what? Finger-fuck your whole squad Forty round extend-o, flip you for my kinfolk Luxury tax on them packs, if you didn't know Bought a new crib, niggas feeling like I hid 3.2, but I just did it for the kids More guns than a pawnshop Got my whole arm rocked Keep the 760, double-parked in the wrong spot Still hustling BOSS! [Hook: Lil Wayne] Yeah, you gotta pay for this I remember when I used to pray for this This, this is classic Some shit you might not see again And we taxing, you don't want it - nigga, leave it then! And we taxing, you don't want it - nigga, leave it then! And we ain't trying to see the pen Like a needle in a hay tack, we ain't trying to see the pin / pen) This is a luxury tax! [Verse 3: Young Jeezy] Yeah, imagine this , no, imagine that! Gave me my sack like, "Good luck getting back!" I'm like, "The fuck I'm gon' hide it at?" And if I'm not careful, be the same place they find it at And I'm a winner, if I make it across the finish line Putting food on the table like it's dinner time And this is what you call stereotyping about far? Can you tell me my your dog keep sniffing my car? Got the audacity to call me a liar So what you got in your trunk? Oh, just a spare tire! You niggas talked blow, while I sold mine Like a bad cramp, it's locking up in no time More time in the kitchen than I spent in the studio "Gangsta's Paradise" and I ain't talking about Coolio Can't lie, still addicted to the odour Got a ice cold Pepsi, but still thinking Coca-Cola Haha! [Hook] [Verse 4: Trick Daddy] I'm up early in the morning and I'm dressed in black Hold on, every morning I get dressed in black! While y'all half-ass - nigga, my pants sagging I'm getting money and my swagger, black-flagging Million dollar status, fully automatic Heavy on the Henny and even harder on the women If it wasn't for Reverend, I'd probably be pimping and shit Pops, my papi - is already in me (in me!) Tried trapping, shit sent me to prison Got mad and went to snapping, so homicide came to visit I smell gun powder, so you got one hour To come up with every damn dollar - or you're done, dollar! It costs to ball, dog Especially when the players on your team consider you as the ball hog You treat me like Shaq and you Kobe But I ain't say you owe me, nigga! But act like you know me, nigga! [Hook]