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    [Rick Ross]
    Two door Bugatti coupe
    I call it Katy Perry
    Wiz Khalifa papers
    Smoking my favourite berry’s
    F65 I call it Rihanna
    It got a red top but it’s white like Madonna
    Made man, you hear what I said
    Having a slumber party all my bitches counting bread
    Made man, also known as Papi Chulo
    And I’m running straight up in the culo
    My wrist always on frio, call me chilly chill
    Super head and super head, and I really will
    Californication, Motivation in my pocket
    Got on my blue Dickie, shout out my n-gga Rocky
    Still smoking sickie, it aint no other option
    Not for made n-ggas and I’m never stopping
    I raised the bar, I set the standards
    My yayo, Usher Raymond, that b-tch just keep on dancing

    Dollar bills on top of dollar bills
    Thats all I’m throwing, if she wont her momma will
    Made n-ggas, talking a lot of skrill
    8 digits a n-gga tryna live

    Made man, you hear what I said
    I got a hundred squares
    If you scared, called the feds
    Made men, I’m screaming dollar bills
    Park the trunk on the Porsche
    There they go, Dollar bills

    Riding round the city, plastic cup of Henny
    Find a n-gga like me, truth to be told, I don’t know many
    I say shout my driver Lauren, thats 62 with curtains
    Cant see shit, I don’t know where the f-ck I’m at for certain
    When it boils down, I’m just a T.O n-gga
    But bitches tell me that I just look like a creole n-gga
    Rick Ross Made Men lyrics found on http://www.directlyrics.com/rick-ross-made-men-lyrics.html

    New Orleans know it’s love, everytime I’m in town
    Shout out my n-gga tens, thats my brother my round
    Spending tomorrows money, I call it mañana
    Off the rack just aint my style, I call it designer
    One of my baddest women ever, I call her Rihanna
    But thats cause her name is Rihanna!
    I’m in the condo just posting watching Miami kill
    I might just walk to the arena and watch it for real
    Ashes to ashes, me, Rozay and Khaled
    Smoking bull riders, shit moving slow as a ballad
    Tattoo on your ass, it’d be nice if you show me
    I’m buying bitches furs, Mike Tyson, Naomi
    I’ve got the right to do it, it’s only right to do it
    Love me some head, and I love a woman that likes to do it
    Still love my team, aint no other option
    Not for made n-ggas and I’m never stopping
    I’m Damon Wayans, just know that homie don’t play that
    You know we running my n-gga, Young money, Maybach


    [Rick Ross - Verse 3]
    Black panorama, I call it T-Pain
    I got my autotune, that bitch insane
    Got my revolver too, I call it Ving Rhames
    You still a baby boy, we doing big things
    Street n-ggas, you hear what I said
    I got some bad news, Jabar back in the feds
    Facing twenty, he just did a dime
    Been out a year, look like he finna ride
    Genocide, these people killing time
    Throw you in a hole, you must be penalised
    Soon as you see success, haters reinvest
    Miami guns drive, half a million nothing less
    Raised the bar, I set the standards
    My yayo Mc Hammer, that bitch just keep on dancing
    Michael Jackson, let it moonwalk
    Set it on the napkin, let it cool off


    Letra enviada por Clayton Souza
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