[Katt Williams:]
I just left the new United States embassy. Somewhere in Georgia, it's 109 rooms. I saw 30 bitches and 30 rooms and I was on the wrong side of the house.
[Intro: Rick Ross]
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 stencil's for.
I'ma tell you never be with them,
Nah, I'm just fuckin' with you,
Aye, Scott, I'm just fuckin' with you, baby, yo!
[Verse 1: Rick Ross]
Speedin' in the Ghost, on the phone with the jeweler,
My new bitch out of D.C. call me Ricky the Ruler,
Gotta gather my concentration while countin' my stacks,
I got eight car notes and just lost me a pack.
On the beach, I'm up and down, women jockin' my ride,
300 horses in this bitch, 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 new deal with Def Jam just set me for life,
Wanted to chapel the BM, man, I'm just rollin' the dice.
Big numbers, I'm John Wall, I'm ballin' tonight,
Just jokin', my sense of humor is like one of a kind.
Got them gangstas, who on my line that'll blow out your mind. [×4]
[Chorus: Keith Sweat]
Tell me it's real,
Tell me this is real, baby.
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
[Verse 2: Rick Ross]
Geechi Liberace, I'm rich as a bitch,
Charm city boys get a whole city a brick,
Through the wire we wettin' niggas, set the shit on fire,
My bitch smilin', I wanna bet, now we on Fisher Island.
Panamera with Tony J, bk's full of paper,
Made a killing on Martin Luther, James Earl the shooter,
My niggas, we grew apart, they joined the rival gang,
Caught them slippin', gave them a pass throwin' pistols at survivin' gang.
Next time boss gotta turn his back on ‘em,
Lettin' young boys brrrrat on ‘em,
Facts, never find me with the fake look,
Trappin' little babies, bitch, just stick me to the cake book.
Black bottles, boy, that's how our case of Ace look,
Your chick, homie, hit homie on the Facebook,
Damn, she hit homie on the mothafuckin' Facebook.
[Chorus: Keith Sweat]
Tell me it's real,
I wanna know.
How does it feel, yeah,
How does it feel?
[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
Clean Maybach, but I'm filthy as shit,
The partition is for the women, how busy we get
From the scotch, the large mob, bet the linkin' feel,
It's all a dream, and never wake me up until it's real.
Duffle bags, that's for the homie when he comin' home,
He never told and he never used the telephone,
He on swole, and that nigga need a telephone
In a Range Rover, and a real nigga got it for him.
[Chorus: Keith Sweat]
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?
[Katt Williams:]
You know when hangin' with billion dollar niggas, one of the perks is gettin' to meet all these billion dollar bitches. I just met a bitch who never gets jetlag. I spent ten thousand dollars on not her best bag, you underdig that?