[Intro: Rick Ross]
It's global
This worldwide right here
From London, Africa, U.S
Booba! Rozay! Ugh!
Need the money on a scale baby
Real niggas worldwide you heard me?
It's all we know, yeah
[Verse 1: Booba]
J' am on the moon, are in the Middle Ages
V-12, without hard feelings I have the fairing
Since Beat de Boul it has been carnage
It seems that am I Jewish? I'm shoving a big Ashkenazi cock into you
Quarter of aces, VIP in the swamp
Brazamizi RIP Malekal
Alert to the French rappers, there you go, the suckers
How many poucaves are rapping, there are the blazes
I'm calm, calm in peace
One meter ninety-two, 102 kilograms
I can all the kéni, I'm polygamous
Here it's Tallac, fuck Sony, fuck PolyGram
Only in the street did I get a piston, that's a shame
Going back and forth to prison, that's normal
Going up the avenue des champs in a DeLorean
My source of income in cellophane
[Chorus: Booba]
We lost brothers, we never got over it
So few opponents, so many enemies
Hash, kalash nigga boo-move to the melody
Drugs shit rap renoi for us it's the good life
The beautiful viiiiiiie, the beautiful viiiiiiie
Uzi machine guns and 1.8.7. on the melody
Bottles in the ai-aia-a-air!
Wait for Jesus to come back, let's take some money, let's start our lives again
Gangster shit
[Verse 2: Booba]
Royalties are better than cessation
I don't go to hebs anymore, my studio is my Class S-
600, Lorinser powerful
Apres-skis on my slippery terrain
Senegalese no one can match me
On a million euros my nigga I like me taler
I like to wage war, ask my allies
My mother is proud, I am such a medalist
Drugs are complicated so I I detailed it
Criminal on probation locked in a stairwell
I'm hot like the first of August
Ding-dong bastard you're KO first round
Youth in DTRS
In France who drives CLS attracts the CRS
Rebel like Casamance and Mendy Gomis
Our guns are bigger than those of the police
br/>[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
Maybach Music
I ride for my dawgz and I swear to God
From a scrub on the corner, webs on the wall
I used to be that youngin' on an air mattress
Now it's Panameras, fly private to Paris
Niggas on the sideline wanna see me touch
I wanna see their faces when that trigger bust
All them boys I ran with, they gave 'em ten and up
When I made forty mil I tatted live it up
We glorify the niggas who done did time
Homies love you and they hate you at the same time
Gold Cuban Linx with the Benz sign
Club photographs throwin' gang signs
Niggas sound spiteful when you livin' right
Michael Tyson money winnin' is a sacrifice
Don King nigga, milli on the ring (boss)
It's Ricky Rozay, Booba do your thing

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