Pandemonium

[Intro: Rick Ross] 3 passports, 3 first class tickets to the money Straight flights.. [Verse 1: Rick Ross] I live by the code, wardrobe from round the globe All I need is a kilo, an apron - show me the stove General Electric perfected, cooking them O’s No more peanut butter sandwiches now we looking at loaves Hoes, I need a condom for my toast Busting in these niggas, standing flat footed, I’m on my toes Froze, pandemonium overdose Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed Armadillo cigars, killers who like to play golf Heroin transactions with Russian shots of the Smirnoff Playing for keeps, I bust in em fore she get off (HUH) I run the city just pull up and drop the kid off Hah, welcome to organized crime Money got me excited, I’m coming four or five times The .45 for you niggas with nine lives Penthouse on Collins, money long as Ocean drive (ah) Black Chevy Tahoe’s, Hatians up out the potholes My place spacious, smoking aces in Lagos Feds get involved, I’m slipping off into Senegal Issue your warrant, informant, bitch I’ve been a boss Counting money stacks, yours' counter-fitted I made my money back when your accountant didn’t Went against the odds, there's only one Rozay {M-M-Maybach Music} My nigga okay [Refrain] I got a penny in my pocket (HUH), million in the trunk (HUH) Started in the back, now we the niggas in the front (WHOO) Step out on the block all the bitches they still in shock (WHOO) Get a piece of pussy then take my niggas to shop (HUH) Pandemonium, causing pandemonium Half a million for the same car we rolling in (AH) Pandemonium, pandemonium We the number one niggas your bitch noticing (HUH) [Verse 2: Meek Mill] Rollin', rollin', yeah Million ways to make this money, you gon' get it On the grind twenty-four/seven, I’m with it YSL swagger, wrist wear frigid Jumping out the Phantom like a muthafucking midget Money knocking at the front door I’m like, who is it It’s Benjy, tell my lil nigga go and get it Cause I’ve been counting all this dirty paper for a minute Lamborghini dreaming thinking how I’m gon' spend it I’m like one’s for the money, two’s for the show of it Three’s for the bitches that be fucking for the ho of it Four for my niggas that be stacking and then blowing it You would think I had a curfew the way I’m going in Look at what we rolling in, causing pandemonium Papi got them keys in, he like my custodian I was tryna bag a brick, you was Nickelodeon I was in them trenches getting down and dirty serving it We’s part the reason that them Churches got some services The morgue could afford just cause we was doing the murdering Nigga called my phone talking reckless I ain't heard of it Fuck your girl, give her back I’m courteous I can keep a secret with Vicky have a menage with Nicki And be out London with Lauren and telling Megan Good morning Catch me rolling with Kelly or at the Hilton with Paris From Hollywood to the hood, I want a mom and I swear that I want em all Wanna fuck em all Had my niggas down so I’m screaming fuck the law Monday night wrestling, I’m so fucking raw She gon wipe me down, I’ma brush her off I’m way harder than the concrete, I say what my mind speak Word to the homie Ross I can get that nine piece For the low that nine cheap, call me if you want it, haters see me And I'm stunting, got em sick to their stomach, ha [Refrain] [Verse 3: Wale] Just count me in.. yeah Whole time, see that fly shit I’ve been on All the girlfriends fall in line from my spin off That's game bitch, ain't shit, Nudies and some J six Where I’m from it’s cold and niggas get at you like handkerchiefs God bless you unless you was disrespectful Bitches dissappoint you but money won’t ever stress you They say I’m special as Devin Hester on fourth down So all that shit you niggas kicking we ain't worried about Catch me at tha carry out, mumbo sauce and half and half Flyest niggas out here, period no maxi-pad Bitch I got a right to brag, bitch I got a right to boast Presidential suite and bitch, I never use my right to vote My vision enormous, my bitches is gorgeous And I am dead serious, bitch I spit with embalming Shout out to lil g, shout out Tre and Mohammad That BOA shit we get paid with death over dishonor I’m known as Obama’s though I know no-one in Congress These bitches love me all the way, you got sorta’s and kinda’s Sort of remind you, why you don’t court no vagina Just give em awesome intercourse and ignore their inquires Quietly becoming a top tier You dreamed of getting green, best believe I’m John Deere Greenist Moncler shit, earth tones in the winter Purp rolled in a rillo, I am on my John Lithgow Out of this 3rd Rock, nigga air it out I am on my Tom Brady y’all niggas is Eric Crouch What the bloodclot, Tommy Frazier fuck yourself I can't see your album coming, that shit's like a sucker punch Head for breakfast, fuck for lunch Dinner time she bring a friend, write my shit so vicious Y’all are like snitches, you can’t see the pen Always on some new shit CNN Shitting on these niggas like I need Depends [Refrain] {M-M-Maybach Music}