Presidential

[Intro: Rick Ross]
God forgives. He's so honorable.
But living amongst thieves and niggas like myself,
You will not have that luxury.

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
I wake up excited, I made it through the night,
Things I did in the dark, will it ever see the light?
My nerves should be a wreck, I got a bad chick,
She keeps me erect, she loves my ad-libs.
I think, I'm a genius, hundred grand a fucking feature,
I do at least three a week, roll up the fucking reefer.
Went from Benihana to Bimini in Bahamas,
Ten chains, no luggage, I'm a big timer.
Niggas claim that they thugging, when they dick-riding,
My niggas rather walk, do they own brick climbing.
On the block in my all white sneakers,
Lord knows, that my ten Jesus pieces.
Pray for me, 'cause you know, a nigga doing wrong.
My homie in the cell, so I had to write a poem,
Count mills for the times, that we had it hard,
Asking for a hundred mill, as I pray to God.

[Hook: Rick Ross]
I do this for my niggas facing hard times,
Empty on them corners, if you hustling part time.
Ten chains on, Eric B with mob ties,
Rakim flows, coming from the Pharcyde.
Blood diamonds and my pieces from apartheid,
Quick, quote a prayer, pull it from the archives,
I pray for every soul that this music reaches.
Bury me a G, ten Jesus pieces.

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Young nigga coming up, they wanna gun you down,
Drinking vodka in the memory of my nigga, damn! (I miss you Peanut)
Riding real slow on them all golds, (we had them, nigga)
Shopping for them O's, when the mall close,
Repping for your homies, when they all gone,
Get empowered, then you put your dog on. (Real shit)
All black tees, ten gold chains,
At the Super Bowl, but we in the dope game.
Ten years strong in the same trap,
Ten years blowing on that strong pack.
Lord knows, that I wanna live right,
But Lord knows, what that Club Liv like, (Right)
Forty dollar tab meaning forty grand,
Lil Wodie got it rolled up in a rubber band,
Holding on the forty in his other hand,
Ten chains on, smoking in the motherland.

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
I'm his poltergeist, niggas know I'm more than nice,
All these jewels on, all boys tonight,
I could see it in the sparkle 'cause it lackluster.
Black card maxed out, damn, black brother,
White collar, black minded.
Chrome Smith and Wesson, back pocket,
Eight shot, bitch, I'm a top shotta,
Screaming your affiliations, but that don't matter,
I'm flyin' first class, as the snakes slither,
Never blackmail them, motherfucking killer.
On trial and they wanna execute me,
It's really sad, just the fact, they never knew me.
True G to the core, feel my texture,
A true G keeps it raw in his lecture,
Keep it simple, white tee, new sneakers,
Dope boy style, ten Jesus pieces.

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Stalley]
Versace shirt, Jesus laying on the chest,
Man, I swear Big did it the best, I mean,
Nas did it fresh, Jay did it fresh, I mean,
Ye did it fresh, but, man, Big did it the best,
And I was so impressed, that I went and got ten,
Now I'm stunting on these niggas, 'cause I couldn't back then.
Rose gold, yellow gold, a couple platinum,
And I wear them all at once, I ain't trying to match them.
I remember bumping MAC-10 and that deuce in the corner,
Scraping up for a sandwich and a soda,
Now my strength is up, and I'm dangling chains off my shoulders,
But no Jesus piece on mine, 'cause at times I feel ashamed
For the reason, that I rhyme,
And they say, because I'm Muslim, I shouldn't think about the shine
Or even put it in a rhyme.
It's better things, I could talk about or put my money towards
But for now, Imma wear these ten chains and floss.

[Hook]

[Outro: Rick Ross]
We untouchable!