Imperial High

Rick RossRick Ross 

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Rick Ross

William Leonard Roberts II (born January 28, 1976), better known by his stage name Rick Ross (often stylized as RICK RO$$), is an American rapper. Ross founded the record label Maybach Music Group, on which he released his studio albums Deeper Than Rap (2009) and Teflon Don (2010). Ross was also the first artist signed to Diddy's management company Ciroc Entertainment. In early 2012, MTV named Ross as the Hottest MC In The Game. more »

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The imperial
(Maybach Music)

Money through the roof, and got it falling through the sky
Got me counting money on a Percocet high
Perpetuate petty niggas awaiting my demise
Noose around my neck, you'd think a young nigga kind
Lookin 'deep into my eyes, you wanna see me rise
Who was born comitting sins? You better watch the signs
King of all kings, black Rothschilds
One nigga from the south'll get you crossed out
So f*ck where you from and f*ck what you sold
Watch how you come or watch how it go
I diss who you fear 'cause I knew they'd fold
And now I'm richer than them niggas, I can do the most
Money through the roof, it's falling from the sky
Counting money on a Percocet high

I watch how you speak, I listen to your tone
The watches that you wear, this different time zones
Crispy calamari tears for the foals
Murder undercover strip from your clothes
Coupes for the curb, suicide doors
Suits to be served for the drug lords
Clubs full of haters, tips for the waiters
Body count, AK-47s made us
Bal Harbor shops, ninety in a knot
In Design District, boy, you see me at the top
Collins Ave, get the coco from the coast guard
Coast clear, let's reward the ones who cook raw
Dolce & Gabbana buttoned to the neck
Still hoping that Your Honor let the jury rest
It's buttoned to the neck
Praying that Your Honor let the jury rest

All I wanna do is watch the ship float
This the sunset, I'm talking big dope
Money through the roof, it's falling through the sky
Spent two hundred for the coupe, they wanna shoot inside
F*ck wearing vests I knew that wouldn't fit
I'm too slow to run, that'd get me flipped
They want me broke, but a nigga rich
I'm talking real money, and not just nigga rich
Rap beefs will get you niggas buried back east
At least, bitch, niggas better act easy
I bought the restaurant, you sold your metaphors
I held my niggas now, you hit the panic doors
I'm not impressed by the painting on these niggas walls
But will he really draw when in the midst the war
I do it for my homies up against the ropes
Twenty years in this, talking to a ghost
Money through the roof, it's falling through the sky
My homie in the pen' until the day he die
I put it on his books and give it to his wife
He told me not to visit him to live my life
Money through the roof, it's falling through the sky
All these broke niggas gotta run inside
Goyard luggage, I just wanna fly
I pray my niggas get to see that other side
Hundred bricks a boy out of Saint Croix
For the big belly-ass rude boy
Wah'gwan, Double-MMG, chaa, brrt (Maybach Music)

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