Rick ross - Pots & pans

All I need is baking soda some pots and pans
Little ice up what I can
Chick at home saying I'm no good
When the fuck am I gon' get her out the hood

What started as a nickel rock
Took 22 months now I'm trying to get a block
Fuck football I'm going down another path
Couldn't past the test
To tell the truth I couldn't fuck with math
Did get a scholarship, but I blew that
Got high, got a ticket and I flew back
To the hell zone mo' straps than 20 shell toes
Get life on yo cell phone
Quarter key box of soda Ross whip that
Career criminal fa' sho' Ross with that
Had to pull my pants up
Boy get them brands up
Daddy got some cancer I never had the chance to
Tell him all my plans to let em' fuck a dancer
Smoking weed and Amsterdam with his grandson
(Damn) Why he passed on me(on me)
My last homie(homie)
I went and bought a bird
Fuck I want some cash homie


I never rode a nigga coat tail
Mayor took a dope sell
Fuck it nigga oh well
Smoking on that classified
Rollin in that lac' of mine
You know my mind state numb to the world half the time
Thinking bout rand rover damn that was fucked up
Found him in the trunk with another dude fucked up
The world fucked up that's why I'm fucked up
Don't get fucked up fuck with me ya fucked up
Bitch I'ma ride, bitch I'ma die
When I holla 305 bitch that's on my life
Got a 40 in the car a chopper in the crib
The grenades down the street you gotta get it how you live
I know niggas turn 1 into 2 and they do what they do
And boy them things move
Fishscale get the big mail
In the room full of work
Taste the cane when ya inhale


It's time for me to cash in laughin
Like Martin in an Aston Martin
When I park it I can see ya bitch heartbeat
So roll out the red carpet
Roll up the purple shit
Black navigator flow
Gotta shut ya fucking mouth don't irritate the smoke
Thinking of a greater way to build a greater flow
I hope she got some great head that's how I grade a hoe
White beamer in the hood shining like a star
Flip this half a key go to the club and I'ma buy the bar
Do it twice a week fucking bitches on the other nights
Promise E class we'll never miss another fight
Hundred in the bag 5 birds I'ma grab
Turn em' into 8 keep me a clean half
Baking soda in the work, works wonderful
Ya see ya dream come true
This I promise you!


Writers: William Leonard Roberts , JEAN MAX BORGES

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC , Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Lyrics licensed by LyricFind