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Artist: Busta Rhymes f/ Rick Ross, Trey Songz
Album:  Year of the Dragon
Song:   Til We Die
Typed by: 

Dready (C'MON!)

[Chorus: Trey Songz] + (Busta)
I got whatever outside
If you wanna hop in bitch come and goooooo
Just gotta have your mouth wide
If you know that your friend might come and goooooo
Oh, fuck what you heard
(And if you think we gon' stop) Then that's just absurd
(Oh, ohh!) My middle finger's in the sky
(Yeah!) Screamin "Fuck a hater" 'til the day a nigga die

[Busta Rhymes]
Yeah, I got 'em yellin "Oh God LORD!"
Presence fresh, Gillette razor sharp, Tom Ford
Fuck G-4's, I charter private Concordes
And shoot through the sky like missiles when the don's bored
Hah, toastin bottles with a boom
Smellin stink like old money buried in the king's tomb
When you think we smell funny certain niggaz wanna watch him
When it comes to money I'm a rose fragrance, watch the flower blossom!
Yeah, when it comes to bread y'all niggaz know it's me
I articulate beautiful like a poetry
Hoes bring me that paper just like they owe him threes
Triple my revenue, God bless my rosaries
Listen, and while you're witnessin Your Highness
And we're celebratin success then sippin on the finest
Most you muh'fuckers need to learn to stand behind us
when we come and dismantle you niggaz quick and leave you spineless
Now that's for you to digest


[Rick Ross]
She see me stackin cheese, and my satin sheets
Silver SLR, smokin lavender leaf
Yellow Jesus piece, I still feed the streets
I'm gettin skull, in Ferrari seats
Mighters{?} at the top, get arrogant on them
Send a bottle up, you can ride if you wanna
My money mandatory, slip you a deposit slip
Money green Maserati with a body kit
Dead presidents got my name on a blimp
Feds in the residence based on a tip
Playin innocent, the state attorney want a grip
I got enough, get with Puff, I could make a flip
Fuck the charge, time for me to top the Forbes list
I'm a fat boy, but I'm on that Porsche shit
You see that money? I'm touchin mine
It's Rozay, Trey Songz, Busta Rhymes


[Busta Rhymes]
Hand on my heart while givin thanks and continue bustin these bottles open
Passin the time securin wins, gherkins, cigar smokin
Controllin every room when I enter they start toastin
Undecided on what to drive, leave the garages open
As we, do the impossible it seems
Successfully manifestin the thought and livin out the dream
Let 'em watch us, leave an unforgettable mark in the mud
Documented like adding a chapter to the Bible with my blood
Listen~!! Every day is like a weekend
Like we never give a fuck, celebratin for no reason
A convoy full of trucks, ain't no question we ALL eatin
Then it's silence when I talk like they're hearin the Lord speakin now
Yeah, as they complain about my ways
cause how we grind and never sleep and just be ballin out for days
Be fuckin every model and be weedin out the strays
And then I bounce on that Bugatti slowly tokin on the haze
Let me pass the shit to Trey