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   Where refrigerators, 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!