Rick Ross - I'm a Boss lyrics

[Intro: Rick Ross] Ricky Ross, Raekwon the Chef Thrill 5 M-I-A, yo Ya'll know what time it is (trilla) boss [Rick Ross] When I'm in the crib (crib), know what time it is (is) I'm trying to get a mill (mill), so money I can feel (feel) f** a bank account (boss) keep my money in bags (bags) If you coming here funny, I'm gunning your a** n***a, take a look at me, Ross, tell me what's f**ing funny (funny) b**h, I'm a top shotter (shotter), see all the macks, gunny Now I'm the pacman, I keep the packs coming And I got a whole lot, so when that shack coming, baby I can hold mine, or I can pitch back Or I can run an option, get it popping, whip that All my Cuban links, still rocking they Cuban Linx And they ready to swim, give me the cuban six I got it orchestrated, cuz I'm a communist Running for the charms, some left on the wrist My n***a Raekwon, yeah, he the f**ing Chef So what we cook in the kitchen, he taste the f**ing best [Chorus: Polite] n***a, I'm a boss, you can catch me with the top knocked off In the trap, getting blocks knocked off Cuz, n***a, I'm a boss, and I'mma show these n***as I ain't gotta talk I got a chaffeur, n***a, I ain't got to walk Cuz, n***a, I'm a boss, cross the line, pay the fine top cost Lose your mind when the nine pop off Cuz, n***a, I'm a boss, I'm a boss, I'm a boss Cuz, n***a, I'm a boss, I'm a boss, I'm a boss [Raekwon] You know we rich, Rick, my vultures, they get dip, we posting It's in motion, when that blow come, we flip-flip Can't take us nowhere, pa, too many spaceships Lay in the open, new Nike's with glaciers Love robbing n***as, cracking heads open It's like tennis, pa, I'm like Venus with the legs smoking Piping hot heroes, gun deleros, new Aston Sky blue jammy, skating on zeros Shorts on, tree lance, cable on, hang to my navel Diamond down, smoking cheeba, Grey Goose Dreaming bout lasagna, the beat watery Half gla** of Whiskey, fly light skin little shorty All my b**hes they bang, it's obvious, we be the Gods Rep me and my mobster sang We monsters, rocket launchers, razor blades With wands on, shoot up the telly, go bonkers [Chorus] [D.C.] (P.C.) {Polite} Yo, I'm the money collector (for that money I'll stretch ya) {I flat line you with that gun that's up under my dresser} I be handling pies (god damn it I'm fly It's so high, that if I jump I'll land in the sky) {You ain't pushing no weight} You a p**y you fake I be cooking that base (bu*ter just look at they face) {Lite keep 'em coming back} The Don, keep 'em coming back (It's the boss and Rick Ross on the f**ing track) [Chorus]