Listen to Supreme song with lyrics from Rick Ross

Supreme

Rick Ross1 Jan 2014

Supreme Lyrics

Supreme (至高无上) - Rick Ross

I just left the New United States embassy

 

Somewhere in Georgia it's 109 rooms

 

I saw 30 b**ches and 30 rooms

And I was on the wrong side of the house

 

Anytime me and Scott Scorch get together

You gotta call this the Iluminati

 

Whenever you see the G it represents God and geometry

 

That's what the extensive for

 

I'mma tell you be with them

 

Nah I'm just f**kin' with you

Aye Scott I'm just f**kin' with you baby

Yo

 

Speeding in the Ghost on the phone with jewlers

My new b**ch out of D C call me Ricky the Ruler

Gotta gather my concentration while counting my stacks

I got eight car notes and just lost me a pack

On the beach I'm up and down women jocking my ride

300 horses in this b**ch need a jockey inside

False floors for firearms is how you should ride

Tried to murder me while in mine so that's how I survived

My deal with Def Jam just set me for life

Wanted to chapel the the BM man I'm just rolling the dice

Big numbers I'm John Wall I'm balling tonight

Just joking my sense of humor is like one of a kind

Got them gangstes who on my line that'll blow out your mind

Got them gangstes who on my line that'll blow out your mind

Got them gangstes who on my line that'll blow out your mind

Got them gangstes who on my line that'll blow out your mind

 

Tell me it's real

Tell me this is real baby

 

How does it feel

How does it feel

Liberace on riches and b**ch

 

Charm ciy boys get a whole city of brick

Through the wire we wetting niggas set the sh*t on fire

My b**ch smiling I wanna bet now we on fishing isle

 

Peddle mari- with Tony Jacob BK's full of paper

Made a killing on my every shooter

 

My niggas we grew apart they joined the rival gang

Caught them slipping gave them a pass throwing pistols at surviving gang

 

Next time boss gotta turn his back on 'em

 

Letting young boys brrrrat on 'em

Facts never find me with the fake look

Trapping little Davis b**ch just take me to the cakebook

 

Black bottles boy that's how our case of ace look

You cheating on me hitting homie ni**a Facebook

 

She hitting on me than a motherf**king Facebook

 

Tell me it's real I wanna know

 

How does it feel yeah how does it feel

Clean-made diaper you filthy as sh*t

They partitioning for the women how busy we get

From the scotch the large mop bet the linking feel

It's all a dream and never wake me up until it's real

Duffle bags that's for the homie when he coming home

He never told and he never used the telephone

 

He on swole and that ni**a need a telephone

In a Range Rover and a real ni**a got it for him

 

You wanna know how does it feel

 

I know I bet it must feel so real

 

Tell me it's real I wanna know

 

How does it feel to be so real

 

You know when hanging with billion dollar niggas

 

One of the perks is getting to meet all these billion dollar b**ches

 

I just met a b**ch who never gets jetlag

 

I spent 10 thousand dollars on her best bag

 

You underdig that

 

***Lyrics are from third-parties***

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