white sand part 2

Singer:rick ross

white sand

white sand

white sand

white sand

white

white sand

white

white

white sand

white sand

white sand

white maserati

full of white girl

white neighborhood

white clientele

black kel-tec

white prosecutor

one slain male

well paid shooters

i put the team together like i'm meyer lansky

fast money bitch

can't even clock my land speed

four door porsche

just bought it last week

five mil from la reid

let's see how long that last me

i sign for mils and run through it just like an athlete

i'm in the same boat

as usain bolt

say i'm insane cause everything always pertain dope

i say you're right and pray i see you hoes on skid row

look what they did to wayne

they wanna hang me

pull out my contracts

turn to page three

when this shit fold

i'mma slang d

we all do the time

some just remain free

all of them white sands all up in your wife man

shit in my right hand will shorten up your lifespan

was right there

serving hand to hand

pitching white grams

got cooked up

scrape right from out the bottom of that rice pan

chevy heavy

i'm deadly with my dice hand

over-do it like shower posse

hitman on a kawasaki

coming through loud and cocky

i'm bout it

yous a coward

akhi

i'm a real nigga

hd clear as hitachi

you's a black and white tv all cloudy and sloppy

you's a sixties hippy joint and i'm flowers of poppy

top of the hourglass is grains of the white sand

time is running out

better come run get this pipe

man

i tell the club owner to lower down the lights

man

baseball brim over the eyes

coverted to the hives man

crack

crack

crack

crack

crack

crack kills motherfucka who cares

a cup in the microwave

that's a case or a benz

brillo pad in your chest

now tell the rest of your friends

i got a line at the door

now i'm yelling nine in the hole

somebody told

now somebody body cold

maricon

two tecs protect my treasure while i digitally measure

her mouth do all the work while my dick get all the pleasure

talking white

you talking right

that's what i be talking like

talking like

twenty light

bring me twenty more than that tonight

i'm at you with that ratchet if i catch you with that package

bitch i'm 'bout my business and i'm damn sure gon' handle it

and i still got that white sand

them niggas' coke beige

i'm getting good

i'm thinking taking up a dope trade

majored in distribution

bags fatter than rasputia

you know the prices

you don't like it

my little dog'll shoot ya

that white got me ice

that ice got me noticed

and then from that that arm and hammer

adding baking soda

whip it 'til it stretch hard

look at all my stretch cards

red paint

white sand

ain't i blessed boy

the rest raw

the other side cooking

thirty six o's

got this kitchen whoofing

it's still black boy

more white ice

bet they know i got the blow for the cheap nye

i told your ass before

scared money don't make it

if i can't afford work

best believe i'm gon' take it

believe i'm gon' break it down to the nickel piece

i count bricks to go to sleep

surrounded by the leaches

hating from the bleachers

custom cars and cycles tight

bitch i ain't need none of them features

i know

my flag red

my money right

on black sand tanning cause they know my sand white

first time i whipped it

that shit looked like some yogurt

tried it again

turned a hundred grand to a quota

tried it again

i ain't missed a quota ever since

freight full of foldgers

folding money more than merrill lynch

Lyric Context: white sand part 2 - rick ross