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birthday (remix) - rick ross lyrics

god forgives i don’t, gold
mmg tour, leave the money on the scale
how real is dat?

its been a minute since i been to church
psalm 27, can i spit a verse
prayin’ on the weak, i should send some flowers
i’m layin’ in the sheets, i’m well endowed

time to get the money steve forbes got
im slowly climbin’ up to lyor spot
net worth n-gga hoes love to google me
heavy jewellery, swimmin’ trunks on laguna beach
condo on park ave, the mansion in boca
20 bedrooms, my sh-t bigger than oprah’s
dreams and nightmares, yeah i’m still havin’ those
side effects for n-ggas livin’ like animals
tequila cupcake for a kingpin
black bar mitzvah n-ggas ain’t seen sh-t
obama fundraiser, all dope boys
blow ya candle out so on and so forth
boyz in da hood, n-gga game ain’t change
i done made love wearin’ eight chains
death to my enemies, tattoo all of my memories
use the project ground for my -ssemblies
i respect the tenant, don’t step on my tennis
follow chain and command, gunplay my lieutenant

they ask me what i do and who i do it for
and how i come up with this sh-t up in the studio
all i want for my birthday is a big booty ho
all i want for my birthday is a big booty ho
when i die, bury me inside the gucci store
when i die, bury me inside the louis store
all i want for my birthday is a big booty ho
all i want for my birthday is a big booty ho

she got a big booty so i call her big booty
scrr..scrr.. wrists moving, cookin’ to it
i’m in the kitchen, yams everywhere
just made a juug, i got bands everywhere
you the realest n-gga breathin’ if i hold my breath
referee, with the whistle, brrrrrt! hold his tech
extendo clip, extendo roll
when your girl leave me she need a hair salon
hair weave k!ller goin’ on a trapathon
see i done had more bombs than pakistan
dope bomb, dro bomb, and a pill bomb
see n-gga, i’m ballin’, you in will call
when i die, bury me inside the jewelry store
when i die, bury me inside the truey store
true to my religion, 2 everything i’m too different
so when i die, bury me next to 2 b-tches

ah, yeezy yeezy how you do it huh?
it’s my birthday, i deserve to be greedy huh?
she holding out, she ain’t givin’ to the needy huh?
you go downstairs and fall asleep with the t.v. on
ya’ll been together ten years, you deserve a menage
‘specially if you put that bmw in the garage
‘specially if you paid a couple payments on her mamma crib
went to her niece’s graduation, man, i hate those kids
last birthday, she got you a new sweater
put it on, give her a kiss, and tell her, “do better”
she said, “how ’bout i get you jewellery from the west end?”
how ’bout she hit the weston and get her best friend?
i’m jokin’, i’m just serious, i asked her
don’t be actin’ like no actress, if we preachin’ then we practice
don’t be reachin’, don’t be touchin’ sh-t
we in kanye west’s benz
cause i will turn you back to a pedestrian

it’s your birthday, it’s your birthday
bad b-tch contest, you in first place
you in first place, you in first place
bad b-tch contest, you in first place
i show up with a check to your work place
(then hand the valet the keys to the merces)
tell the dj play your song, this sh-t come on
(what i’m seein’ from the back i can’t front on)
they ask me what i do and who i do it for
when i die, bury me inside the booty club
get it girl, get it girl, get it get it girl
i might switch it up and get you girl

deuce and ye
we like snoop and dre
isn’t this your birthday, baby?
you deserve a coupe today

(you in first place, you in first place)
(bad b-tch contest you in first place!)

- rick ross lyrics

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