Where Would I Go (feat. Rick Ross)

Hit-Boy
 Where would I go?
 You know real (where would I go?)
 Real big boss shit (where would I go?)
 Distinguished gentleman shit
 Real street nigga shit, yo
 Jumped in the game feet first and I paid for my actions
 Hospital stays, laid up, related to asthma
 And all I knew was chase paper in a dangerous fashion
 Them boxes came to my crib with my name on a package
 Mama, I made it, rose petals and gold Chevelles
 Ask the team, we all cop gold bezels at those levels
 It's on my wrist and as well as my hip, it's cold metal
 This kinda game only run through your veins and your bone marrow
 It cost me, they tell me, Be humble, they think I'm flossin'
 Shit, I probably am, I got this out the concrete
 I stood in front of buildings, sold dope brown as coffee
 Wearin' Barkleys
 I just parked the 740 by a palm tree (that's real shit)
 Stuck to the plan from out the sand, get rich and share it
 When you a dope boy, this the life that your bitch inherit
 She wanna fuck me on a yacht and take a trip to Paris
 I buy her expensive shit and she forget to wear it
 Big dough when you thought of my block
 I bought a brand new pistol when I thought of the opps
 I had the money on the roll 'fore the water got hot
 And I still remember who owe 'case y'all thought I forgot
 The Butcher comin', nigga
 It's the biggest (M-M-M-M, where would I go?)
 Niggas desire to fit in, I was invited (where would I go?)
 Pistol whipped a few niggas, he got indicted (where would I go?)
 When you face a few years, it's time to fight it
 I shoot the prosecutor right back, Johnny Unitas
 Perry Mason, Gary Payton
 The double M nigga, I live amazin'
 Dope boy alumni, such a classy unit
 All double R's at the class reunion
 Pistol heavy, the money bagger
 The bitches at me, up the ladder
 Franchise, it's rappers that can't size us
 Bitches flew out of state, just to stand beside us
 For a selfie, that boy wealthy
 Four floor condos, that nigga selfish
 Waterfalls and all, deep in the cells
 I speak with my heart, I rarely talk a lot
 Went from Ford to Ferrari, look at the parkin' lot
 Seatbelts never, that's a common law
 'Cause when the shots fired, fat boy hoppin' out
 It's time to explain just what your songs 'bout
 'Cause when your homie got shot up, you cut your phone off
 Only way I go is where I wanna be
 My niggas all on top, it's what I wanna see
 My kids in the mansion, it got a hundred rooms
 Playin' hide and seek for weeks, what you wanna do?
 Always talkin' coke and man, I sold the most
 'Til all my niggas broke, Belaire Rose we toast
 Always keep your word and keep your mama close
 You ride for your brother, teach your son the ropes
 You never want it back, a blessing get the most
 That Rolex on your wrist
 Don't let it cost your soul (cost your soul, cost your soul)
 M-M-Maybach Music
 Griselda