Hell's Angels (American Heathens) (feat. Rick Ross)

I been in so much gold lately, pistol close and it’s off safety

Niggas smilin’ in my face, but they all hate me and it’s all gravy

See I ain’t playin’ no games

I’mma ball crazy, I ball baby

Throw this money up high, now let it fall lazy

Tip drills for the quick thrills, don’t tease I wanna feel it all baby

Clicquot and Don Peri, can’t forget that loud pack

Bud smoke everywhere, I’m around that

Made a lil money this year, now everybody they countin’ that

New house with a new spouse, cars parked out where the fountain at

I love that feeling of bouncing back

Blue Collar still my grind, green backs on my mind

Nobody workin’ than I’m, my nigga still throwin’ out that iron

Tryna iron out they situations with feds all on they line

So we talk low and we park slow and watch out for one time

These wild niggas that’s out they mind, they’ll crowd your whip and pound that nine

Till the clip is empty, they’ll rip your Bentley with shells all in your spine

That’s just jealous envy, see Hell ain’t picky

When it’s your time, it’s your time

Real niggas done linked up world wide now

It’s untouchable now, it’s unstoppable now

Regardless of how it go down nigga, you gone die a legend nigga

I got a star on my sneakers and they made by Chuck Taylor

I’m a star in the ghetto I swear C-Murda my neighbor

Bought me a Corvette motor, put a Super Charger on it

From the bus stop it’s sounding like a damn train rollin’

Ain’t a damn thing foldin’, everything still standing

Pull up, hop out, shoot up this bitch like Jonathan Mannion

All the cars still candy all the girls light skinned

And they well educated, it’s still niggas stuck on stupid

I say fuck all my haters, then I fuck all they ladies

Who the fuck you think you are in this fuckin’ Mercedes

It’s the boss bitch, so go tell your boss bitch

Hammerman off the hook, don’t make me hit your off switch

Like a damn train rollin’, ain’t a damn thing foldin’

He strapped, I’m strapped

You got that right?

Come on

I’m strapped up like bamboo, talons and hollows my ammo

Shoulder straps like Rambo, don’t fill them clips too high though

I learned that from B.I

Don’t keep too many in my ride, learned that from T.I

And stay away from them P.I.’s

Got the Milk buzzin’ like beehives, nobody does it like these guys

Ski-mask when we rides, jump out boys we known to take

Home invasion with guns in your face, kids tied up and thrown in the lakes

We ain’t choppin’ fingers, we poppin’ Nina’s and skate

We just some dirty kids that ain’t ate, tryna fill up that plate

We done chopped grams, and plotted plans to plan our escape

But we still in this trap though, and it’s feelin’ like a trapdoor

Slow motion, money that slow

Pick up the van then pick up my mans, we comin’ for that cash-flow

Beard longer than Castro’s, put fear up in these assholes

Mack Eleven with the air holes

Tearin’ souls when I bear hold this trigga

When I’m blackin’ out and no backin’ out, I be clear with a nigga