Artist/Band:
Rick Ross
Lyrics for Song: So Sophisticated
Lyrics for Album: God Forgives I Don't [2012]
[Intro: Rick Ross]
This sh*t is highly sophisticated. I just make it look easy, n*gga.
Follow me
[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I'm so sophisticated
To get a verse from me, you gotta be initiated
To get a purse from me, she gotta be sophisticated
Purchase a whip from me and never miss a single payment
I'm from the city where the Muslims even Christians hate it
Even the black folk hate to see another n*gga made it
Tell all them pussies to chill, champagne refrigerated
Just bought a chopper 'cause the last one, got it confiscated
Counting a hundred mil so many times, I contemplated
You wanna be the hottest but that sh*t get complicated
I pull your card, I know you're pussy by your conversation
Show you the safe you'll have to kill me for that combination
Made another two milli off the compilation
I just hit a lick, I'm telling you this sh*t amazing
Got a white b*tch, she f*cking me just like she Jamaican
Sipping purple and that motherf*cker concentrated
This for my n*ggas in them prisons, overpopulated
[Hook: Rick Ross]
This the mob so you gotta get initiated
If you a mob, then you gotta make an issue payment
We going hard, run it back just like it's Walter Payton
The game sweet, gave all my n*ggas an occupation (Rugh!)
We so sophisticated (Rugh!)
Sh*t so sophisticated (Whoop!)
Money millionaires, guess we made it (Rugh!)
[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
I'm so sophisticated
Smoking weed busting open all the liquor later
I bust her open then I tell her I'ma lick her later
Pull out the stick and spray that b*tch just like it's activator
Time to lay down these n*ggas that be masquerading
We know you pussies, so you got my n*ggas masturbating
Round of applause 'cause them choppers be so captivating
So sophisticated 'cause them hits be calculated
Put yo d*ck in the dirt, now you decapitated
I'm getting money so you'll never hear me talking petty
Tatted on my stomach, rich forever, Makaveli
Fifty million, hundred million, it's accumulating
I'm the hottest and these other n*ggas cooling, ain't it
I got a b*tch I'm f*cking that you see on BET
My lil' Haiti shooters will have yo ass on TMZ
Breaking news and we still get them for ten a key
And if he faking, f*ck him, tell them n*ggas "C'est la vie"
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Meek Mill]
Sh*tting on these haters, ball hard D Waiters
Ever since I got money, e'rybody need favors
That's why I ain't got no homies, and I ain't got no neighbors
But I be on my grind like I ain't got no paper
But I'm so rich and I got yo b*tch
All in my whip and she all on my dick
With a hand on my stick, tryna live in my crib
'Cause I handle my sh*t like a candle got lit
'Cause I burn sh*t down, yea I'm in my bag
And these n*ggas so mad it's my turn now
And I get that cash and my b*tch so bad, she know sophisticated
I'm balling hard, f*cking b*tches and ain't got sh*t for haters
I hang my arm out the window now watch me get the paper
My neck so frosty, you frauding, yo sh*t refrigerator
Boy you an imitator
You ain't got no M's in yo account, I never ask my amount
Treat that bad b*tch like a bad check 'cause I cash that and I bounce
I ain't never had sh*t but I grab sh*t and I cashed out on that ounce
And I flipped that to a bird and bounced back like word
[Hook]
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