Letra de Til We Die - Busta Rhymes

(Feat. Trey Songz, Rick Ross)

I got whatever I signed

If you wanna hop in, bitch, come and go

Just have to have your mouth wide

If you know that you plan on coming on

On for what you..

And if you think we're gonna stop

That's just absurd

My middle finger's in the sky

Screamin' fuck a hater 'til the day a nigga die

Yeah, I got 'em yellin' "Oh God, Lord"

Presence fresh, Gillette razor sharp, Tom Ford

Fuck G4s, I charter private Concords

And shoot through the sky like missiles when they dodge ball

Toast them bottles with the booze

Smell and stink like old money buried in the king's tomb

When you think we smell funny, certain niggas wanna watch 'em

When it comes to money I'm a rose fragrance, watch the flower blossom

When it comes to bread, y'all niggas know it's me

I articulate beautiful like a poetry

Hoes bring me that paper just like they owing threes

Triple my revenue, God bless my rosaries

Listen, that's why your witness and your highness

We're celebratin' success and sippin' on the finest

Most you motherfuckers need to learn to stand behind us

When we come and dismantle you niggas quick and leave you spineless

But that's for you to digest

I got whatever I signed

If you wanna hop in, bitch, come and go

Just have to have your mouth wide

If you know that you plan on coming on

On for what you..

And if you think we're gonna stop

That's just absurd

My middle finger's in the sky

Screamin' fuck a hater 'til the day a nigga die

She see me stackin' cheese in my satin sheets

Silver SLR, smokin' lavender leaf

Yellow Jesus piece, I still feed the streets

I'm getting skull, that Ferrari seats

Riders at the top, get arrogant on 'em

Sit above the law, you can rat if you wanna

My money mandatory, slip you a deposit slip

Money green, Maserati with a body kit

Dead presidents, got my name on the blim

Fast in the residence based on a tip

Playing innocent, the state attorney want a grip

I've got enough, get with puff, I could make a flip

Fuck the charts, 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

I got whatever I signed

If you wanna hop in, bitch, come and go

Just have to have your mouth wide

If you know that you plan on coming on

On for what you..

And if you think we're gonna stop

That's just absurd

My middle finger's in the sky

Screamin' fuck a hater 'til the day a nigga die

Hand on my heart while giving thanks and

Continue bustin' these bottles open

Passin' the time, securin' wins, gurkin' cigar smokin'

Controllin' every room, when I enter they start toastin'

Undecided on what to drive, think the garage is open

As we do the impossible

It seems successfully manifestin' a thought and livin' out the dream

Leave an unforgettable mark of 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 you hearin' the Lord speakin' now

Yeah, as they complain about my ways

'Cause I'll be grindin', never sleepin', just be ballin' on for days

Be fuckin' every model, and be weedin' out the strays

And then I'm bouncin' that Bugatti, slowly totin' on the haze

Then we pass this shit to Trey

I got whatever I signed

If you wanna hop in, bitch, come and go

Just have to have your mouth wide

If you know that you plan on coming on

On for what you..

And if you think we're gonna stop

That's just absurd

My middle finger's in the sky

Screamin' fuck a hater 'til the day a nigga die

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