What is this? (Maybach music)

I like this Maybach music

Sweeeeeeeeeeet!

Ha-ha-ha!

Come and take a ride

Come and take a ride

Billionaire

Yayo

JUSTICE LEAGUE

57 years, yes!

Blood for a D-Boy

Hand my mack 11 to the engineer to record

Got the baddest women in the world for me to feed on

Double deck yacht, docked Boss, blowing weed up

Revenue incredible, it put me on a pedestal

Columbia to Mexico, I figure there was a better rule

Look at me, a model now

Models and bottles 'round

A Blood holla', ballin'

But the boys in blue, shot 'em down

Gang-affiliated, colors prosecutors painted

'Cause the niggas I employed, name synonymous with Mi-Yayo

Instrumental that are mental, Maybach kind of mental

400 off the lot, the block is monumental

Some things money can't buy

Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride

In the rear, so many instruments I hear

Tucked behind curtain, no signs to fear (ROSS!)

I'm higher than a leer / Aaliyah

This Maybach music, designer shit I wear

May cause you to lose it

Close your eyes and inhale the smoke

It's Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote, nigga!

5 ounces, take a toke

Of this Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote

BOSS!

YOUNG!

Fuck it then!

Black Maybach, white seas, black piping

Remind me of Paul McCartney and Mike fighting

You know, +The Girl Is Mine+

+Life's A Bitch+, so +The Whole World Is Mine+

The six-deuce long, the curtains are drawn

Perfectly like a Picasso, Rembrandts and Rocco's

I'm a major player, 40-40's in Vegas at the Palazzo

They said it was not so

Certain things that money can't buy

Like being this fly

'Til then, I'm just gonna' ride!

I'm like G-Rap with better transportation

On the road to the riches, reach my +Final Destination+

And the lair, closer to a leer / Aaliyah

Say a +Prayer+, hope I get ta' see her

When I disappear from here - baby, yeah!

But I don't see the ending through these millionaire lenses

Just the Two M's on the emblem

The partition roof, translucent and Humador

Where refrigerators, where Ace of Spades – two I store!

True story, my closet is like two stories

Cut to the happy ending, 'cause I don't do stories

Shawn Corey, real rap

The Maybach is bananas, peel back!

You feel that?

YOUNG! C'mon!

Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach

8-track episodes, been doing this since way back

Since way back, since way back

8-track episodes, been doing this since way back!

Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach

8-track episodes, been doing this since way back

Since way back, since way back

8-track episodes, been doing this since way back!

BOSS!

Can't be stopped now

We got too much cake

They pinching pennies, while I'm muscling for meals

And the muscle be that muzzle, when I stuff it in your grill

Stuffed shells - thanks to crack, I crack

Crab and lobsters, not all mobsters

Imposters - got cha!

Boy, I got an eagle view, slanted on my balcony

Can only stay a week or two, so many people out for me

I bulletproofed the Maybach

Got a killer's intuition

Holding on that mack 11, Makaveli premonition

Waiting on my Suge Knight

One nation under God, since I chose a thug's life

Guess I gotta' play my part

Never will I die, my name symbolize

The hustle for young killers coming from the other side

Some things your money can't buy

Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride

I'm large, my black car

Menagin' black broads, massage for frauds

I'm livin' large, sellin' fat rocks

In the +Killin' Field+ of hip-hop

Runnin' up on the car, you get popped, mopped and dropped!

I'm The Boss!

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