Made Men

[Rick Ross (Drake):]
(Yeah, made nigga, got made niggas with me)
2 Tall
Fuck it, I ain't even counting the money no more
If it ain't right, it ain't right
It ain't even matter no more
Cut me up a lil' bit
This next-level shit

[Rick Ross:]
Two-door Bugatti coupe, I call it "Katy Perry"
Wiz Khalifa papers, smoking my favorite berries
S65, 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" (Ugh)
And I'm running straight up in the culo
My wrist always on frío, call me "Chilly Chill" (Ugh)
Super head from Superhead, and I really will
Californication, motivation in my pocket
Got on my blue Dickie, shout out my nigga Roccett
Still smoking sticky, it ain't no other option—
Not for made niggas, and I'm never stopping
I raised the bar, I set the standards (Ugh)
My yayo Usher Raymond, that bitch just keep on dancing

[Rick Ross {Drake}:]
Dollar bills on top of dollar bills
That's all I'm throwing—if she won't, lil' mama will (Ugh)
Made niggas, talking a lot of skrill
Eight digits, a nigga tryna live
Made man (Ugh)—you hear what I said?
I got a hundred squares—if you scared, call the feds
Made man, I'm screaming, "Dollar bills"
Pop the trunk on the Porsche {Ugh}—there they go, dollar bills

[Drake:]
Riding 'round the city, plastic cup of Henny
Find a nigga like me? Truth be told, I don't know many
I say shout my driver, Lauren; that '62 with curtains
Can't see shit, I don't know where the fuck I'm at for certain, ah!
When it boils down, I'm just a T-O nigga
But bitches tell me that I look just like a Creole nigga
New Orleans know it's love every time I'm in town
Shout out my nigga, Tez—that's my brother, my 'round
Spending tomorrow's money, I call it "mañana"
Off the rack just ain't my style, I call it "designer"
One of my baddest women ever, I call her "Rihanna"
But that's 'cause her name is Rihanna
I'm in the condo just posted, watching Miami kill
I might just walk to the arena and watch it for real
Ashes to ashes, me, Rozay and Khaled
Smoking bullriders, 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, Naomie
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, ain't no other option—
Not for made niggas, and I'm never stopping
I'm Damon Wayans, just know that homie don't play that
You know we run it, my nigga, Young Money, Maybach (Maybach Music)

[Rick Ross:]
Dollar bills on top of dollar bills
That's all I'm throwing—if she won't, lil' mama will (Ugh)
Made niggas, talking a lot of skrill
Eight digits, a nigga tryna live
Made man (Ugh)—you hear what I said?
I got a hundred squares—if you scared, call the feds
Made man, I'm screaming, "Dollar bills"
Pop the trunk on the Porsche—there they go, dollar bills

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 niggas—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 penalized
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

Dollar bills on top of dollar bills
That's all I'm throwing—if she won't, lil' mama will
Made niggas, talking a lot of skrill (Ugh)
Eight digits, a nigga tryna live
Made man—you hear what I said?
I got a hundred squares—if you scared, call the feds
Made man, I'm screaming, "Dollar bills"
Pop the trunk on the Porsche—there they go, dollar bills (Ugh)

[Rick Ross (Drake):]
(Ugh, yeah)
Ugh
(Yeah, made nigga, got made niggas with me)
Ha ha
M-M-M-Maybach Music