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Til We Die
Busta Rhymes feat. Rick Ross & Trey Songz
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
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(Dre) Come on!
I got whatever outside
If you wanna hop in, bitch, come and go
Just gotta have your mouth wide
If you don't, bet your friend might come and go
I don't know what you heard
Let's just let's just (Huh? Huh?)
My middle fingers in the sky
Screaming "fuck a hater" 'til the day a nigga die
Yeah, I got 'em yelling "Oh God, Lord!"
Presence fresh, Gillette razor sharp, Tom Ford
Fuck G4's, I charter private Concords
And shoot through the sky like missiles when the don's bored
Ha, toastin' bottles with a boom, smellin' stink like old money
Buried in the king's tomb, when you think we smell funny?
Certain niggas wanna watch 'em when it comes to money
I'm a rose fragrance, watch the flower blossom
Yeah, when it comes to bread, y'all niggas know it's me
I articulate beautiful like I'm poetry
Hoes bring me that paper just like they owing threes
Triple my revenue, God bless my rosaries
Listen, and while you're witnessing your highness
And we're celebrating success and sipping on the finest
Most you motherfuckers need to learn to stand behind us
'Fore we come and dismantle you niggas quick and leave you spineless
Now that's for you to digest
I got whatever outside
If you wanna hop in, bitch, come and go
Just gotta have your mouth wide
If you don't, bet your friend might come and go
I don't know what you heard
Let's just let's just (Huh? Huh?)
My middle fingers in the sky
Screaming "fuck a hater" 'til the day a nigga die
She see me stacking cheese in my satin sheets
Silver SLR, smoking lavender leaf
Yellow Jesus piece, I still feed the streets
I'm getting skull in Ferrari seats
Might unzip the top, get arrogant on 'em
Set a bottle off, you can rat if you wanna
My money mandatory, slip you a deposit slip
Money green Maserati with a body kit
Dead presidents, got my name on the blimp
Feds in the residence based on a tip
Pled innocent, the state attorney want a grip
I got enough, get with Puff, I can make a flip
Fuck the charts, time for me to top the Forbes list
I'm a fat boy but I'm on that Porsche shit
You see that money? I'm touching mine
It's Rozay, Trey Songz, Busta Rhymes
I got whatever outside
If you wanna hop in, bitch, come and go
Just gotta have your mouth wide
If you don't, bet your friend might come and go
I don't know what you heard
Let's just let's just (Huh? Huh?)
My middle fingers in the sky
Screaming "fuck a hater" 'til the day a nigga die
Hand on my heart while giving thanks
And continue busting these bottles open
Passing the time securing wins, gurking, cigar smoking
Controlling every room, when I enter they start toasting
Undecided on what to drive, leave the garages open
As we do the impossible it seems
Successfully manifesting the thought and living out the dream
Let 'em watch us leave an unforgettable mark in the mud
Document it like adding a chapter to the Bible with my blood
Listen, every day is like a weekend
Like we never give a fuck, celebrating for no reason
A convoy full of trucks, ain't no question, we all eating
And it's silence when I talk like you're hearing the Lord speaking
Now, yeah, as they complain about my ways
'Cause I be grinding, never sleep and just be balling out for days
Be fucking every model and be weeding out the strays
And then I bounce in that Bugatti slowly toting on the haze
Let me pass this shit to Trey
I got whatever outside
If you wanna hop in, bitch, come and go
Just gotta have your mouth wide
If you don't, bet your friend might come and go
I don't know what you heard
Let's just let's just (Huh? Huh?)
My middle fingers in the sky
Screaming "fuck a hater" 'til the day a nigga die
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