เพลง Summer Seventeen (Explicit)

Summer Seventeen (Explicit) - Rick Ross (里克·罗斯)/Yo Gotti

Written by：William Leonard Roberts II

Rick Ross：

You scared to die ni**a

Open your eyes wide and I pray you are

Rick Ross：

I'm out on bond so I gotta beat it

All the d**e boys say they wanna be me boss

I got a lick boy I got a lick

2017 trust me boy this one is it

I used to smoke the w**d until my fingers burn

Pool of b**ches f**king me I got em' taking turns

My ni**a bought the stick but you wanna fade

Made runnin' in the bank a residential thing

All my *s mad they like f**k the world

Back to standing on the ave with a couple birds

If you a killer well I'm tryna see

Cause calling the police the only thing free

I had to park that purple Lamborghini

And pull that Chevy back out on the cement

I'm from the city where they kill for nothin'

And all Renzel do is push a button

Rick Ross：

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

All my *s I'm talking all my *s

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

Yo Gotti：

I had a quarter mil' when I was seventeen

Quarterback and quarter keys plus I own the team

Rather you than me rather me than you

Riding in that coupe hanging out shooting

Glass panoramic top I don't got no roof

Your b**ch wishing on a star

I can see the moon

I can count to a million with my eyes closed

And shoot a p**sy with that chopper while I'm blindfolded

Draco draco draco draco fitted cap a halo

Activis and Faygo no pussies on my payroll

It's 'bout to be a cold summer hot winter

This year in march I might make it rain 'til September

Rick Ross：

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

Rick Ross：

I'm out on bond so I gotta beat it

Half a million to my lawyer cause he undefeated

Shots fired you short of breathing

Barefoot cause them kids took your Adidas

I'm keepin' fried fish up in my mama pan

How much y'all detectives call yo' boy the son of sam

Zaca flesh shake up the block that's with a hundred grand

Put that voodoo on you *s so that gun'll jam

You know them *s killers how they name ring

You know them *s winners how they chain swing

All the b**ches sellin' p**sy charge the same thing

Richest ni**a in the hood we call him rain man

Rick Ross：

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

All my *s let's go

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

I want my *s rich by summer seventeen

Yo Gotti：

Lord I'm talking all my *s

All my *s

Every one of 'em ni**a

Summer seventeen ni**a