Maybach Music

What is this? Maybach music
 I like this Maybach music
 Sweet!
 Ha ha ha!
 Come and take a ride
 Come and take a ride
 Billionaire
 Yayo
 Justice League
 57 years, yes!
 Blood for a D-Boy
 Hand my mack 11 to the engineer to record
 Got the baddest women in the world for me to feed on
 Double deck yacht, docked Boss, blowing weed up
 Revenue incredible, it put me on a pedestal
 Columbia to Mexico, I figure there was a better route
 Look at me, a model now
 Models and bottles 'round
 A Blood holla', ballin'
 But the boys in blue, they shot 'em down
 Gang-affiliated, colors prosecutors painted
 'Cause the niggas I employed, name synonymous with Mi-Yayo
 Instrumental that are mental, Maybach kind of mental
 400 off the lot, the block is monumental
 Some things your money can't buy
 Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride
 In the rear, so many instruments I hear
 Tucked behind curtain, no sign to fear, Ross!
 I'm higher than a leer
 This Maybach music, designer shit I wear
 May cause you to lose it
 Close your eyes and inhale the smoke
 It's Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote, nigga
 5 ounces, take a toke
 Of this Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote
 Boss!
 Young!
 Fuck it then!
 Black Maybach, white seas, black piping
 Remind me of Paul McCartney and Mike fighting
 You know, The Girl Is Mine
 Life's A Bitch, so The Whole World Is Mine
 The six-deuce long, the curtains are drawn
 Perfectly like a Picasso, Rembrandts and Rocco's
 I'm a major player, 40-40's in Vegas at the Palazzo
 They said it was not so
 Certain things that money can't buy
 Like being this fly
 'Til then, I'm just gonna' ride
 I'm like G-Rap with better transportation
 On the road to the riches, reach my Final Destination
 And the lair, closer to a leer
 Say a Prayer, hope I get ta' see her
 When I disappear from here, baby, yeah
 But I don't see the ending through these millionaire lenses
 Just the Two M's on the emblem
 The partition roof, translucent and Humador
 Whereigerators, where Ace of Spades, or two I store
 True story, my closet is like two stories
 Straight to the happy ending, 'cause I don't do stories
 Shawn Corey, real rap
 The Maybach is bananas, peel back
 You feel that?
 Young! C'mon!
 Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach
 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back
 Since way back, since way back
 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back!
 Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin' in my Maybach
 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back
 Since way back, since way back
 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back!
 Boss!
 Can't be stopped now
 We got too much cake
 They pinching pennies, while I'm muscling for meals
 And that muscle be that muzzle, when I stuff it in your grill
 Stuffed shells, thanks to crack, I crack
 Crab and lobsters, not all mobsters
 Imposters, got cha!
 Boy, I got an eagle view, slanted on my balcony
 Can only stay a week or two, so many people out for me
 I bulletproofed the Maybach
 Got a killer's intuition
 Holding on that mack 11, Machiavelli premonition
 Waiting on my Suge Knight
 One nation under God, since I chose a thug's life
 Guess I gotta play my part
 Never will I die, my name symbolize
 The hustle for young killers coming from the other side
 Some things your money can't buy
 Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride
 I'm large, my black car
 Menagin' black broads, massage for frauds
 I'm livin' large, my fat rocks
 I see the kill in the field of hip-hop
 Runnin' up on the car, you get popped, mopped and dropped
 I'm the Boss!