Maybach Music

What is this? (Maybach music)

I like this Maybach music

Sweet!

Come and take a ride

Come and take a ride

Billionaire

Yayo

(J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League)

57, yes, yes, good for a D-Boy

Hand my MAC-11 to the engineer to record

Got the baddest women in the world for me to feed on

Double-deck yacht, docked Boss, blowin' weed up

Revenue incredible, it put me on a pedestal

Colombia to Mexico, I figured was a better route

Look at me, a model now, models and them bottles 'round

A Blood holla, "Ballin,'" but the boys in blue, they shot 'em down

Gang-affiliated, colors prosecutors painted

'Cause the niggas I employed name synonymous with mayhem

Instrumentals that are mental, Maybach kind of mental

400 off the lot, the block is monumental (boss)

Some things your money can't buy

Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride

In the rear, so many instruments I hear

Tucked behind curtain, no sign to fear

I'm higher than a lear, this Maybach music

Designer shit I wear, make hoes lose it (boss)

Close your eyes and inhale the smoke

It's Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote, nigga

By an ounce, take a toke

Of this Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote

Boss!

It's Young!

Fuck it then

Black Maybach, white seats, black pipin'

Remind me of Paul McCartney and Mike fightin'

You know, "The Girl Is Mine"

Life's a bitch, so the whole world is mine

The six-deuce long, the curtains are drawn

Perfectly like a Picasso, Rembrandts and Rothkos

I'm a major player, 40-40's in Vegas at the Palazzo

They said it was not so

Certain things your money can't buy

Like being this fly, 'til then, I'm just gon' ride

I'm like G Rap with better transportation

On the road to the riches, reach my final destination

In the lear, closer to Aaliyah, say a prayer

Hope I get to see her when I disappear from here, baby, yeah

But I don't see the endin' through these millionaire lenses

Just the two M's on the emblem

The partition roof, translucent and humidor

Refrigerators, where Ace of Spades or two I store

True story, my closet is like two stories

Straight to the happy endin', 'cause I don't do stories

Shawn Corey, real rap

The Maybach is bananas, peel back

You feel that?

Young, c'mon

Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach

Eight-track episodes, been doin' this since way back

Since way back, since way back

Eight-track episodes, been doin' this since way back

Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach

Eight-track episodes, been doin' this since way back

Since way back, since way back

Eight-track episodes, been doin' this since way back

Boss, can't be stopped now

We got too much cake (yeah)

They pinchin' pennies, while I'm musclin' for mills

And that muscle be that muzzle, when I stuff it in your grill

Stuffed shells, thanks to crack, I crack crab and lobsters

Not all mobsters imposters, gotcha

Boy, I got a eagle view, standin' on my balcony

Can only stay a week or two, so many people out for me

I bulletproofed the Maybach, got a killer's intuition

Holdin' on that MAC-11, Makaveli premonition

Waitin' on my Suge Knight, one nation under God

Since I chose a thug's life, guess I gotta play my part

Never will I die, my name symbolized

The hustle for young killers coming from the other side (what?)

Some things your money can't buy

Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride

I'm large, my black car, menagin' black broads

Massage for frauds, I'm livin' large, my fat rocks

It's eat to kill in the field of hip-hop

Runnin' up on the car, you get popped, mopped and dropped

I'm the boss