Finals 2 - Intellectual

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]

We them niggas at the park, we just wanna ball

Sellin' dope to get a car and don't know what it's called

Niggas foul but the referees don't get involved

It's the finals and my dogs came to take it all

2014 and them boys back

I'm on the finals on the floor and that boy strapped

50 stacks for the seat, bring the popcorn

Diamond chains and my million dollar cross on

Yeah they tell me that these ain't the streets to floss on

I put your bitch on my list, and it's not long

Runnin' down on niggas, they retract their statement

I keep a bomb, I drop it like a compilation

All y'all niggas claim to know me well

Top down, I got your bitch's hair in a ponytail

She never been to Tom Ford, nigga

So I double back for that encore, nigga

Yayo comin' out my pores, nigga

You should see me and them stars, nigga

Rich niggas don't test drive

And double M, that be the best

I let her count the cake up in my stash spot

Put all her naked photos in my laptop

We got a bond that we could never break

She wash her hair with Belaire, that pussy sweet as cake

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

My money on another level

She fuckin' ordinary niggas

Your bitch be fuckin' ordinary niggas

[Verse 2: Wale]

I took a break to let these lames get their thing off

Now I seen the scenery, can't seem to get the cigar

These hoes a free throw, Stephenson and LeBron

I just let her blow, in a moment she gon' be home

Isolate the offense, nigga don't you hear me talkin'?

And you know I watch more green than like floor season tickets in Boston

And we show off like Dolph Ziggler, let raw bitches get tossed out

All I call is bad shit like I'm bashing Joe Crawford

And these dudes ain't slick, sayin' you, is that you? Buyin' Jordans?

But we know their set, like a Euro step, them niggas nearly walkin'

So turn me up, I got it, turn me up, I got it

Thank God for this hip-hop cause on ESPN I bombed it

You can see that we keep our promise

I could beat up, beat up, no conscience

And ridin' with my feet up, my seat up, reclinin'

Supreme up, my tee, and Moschino designer

Believe that your female'll follow

Better eat up or be up cause we at the Finals

Swag champion, believe that, ring at the counter

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

My money on another level

She fuckin' ordinary niggas

Your bitch be fuckin' ordinary niggas

[Verse 3: Fat Trel]

I tried to let you pussy niggas eat

My chopper pussy kill and put you pussies in the street

Say fuck the major cause I wasn't made for industry

SB be the realest so picture them niggas killin' me

Let's get it, I got them same dirty niggas with me

Silencers give you life but they make a major difference

You play a witness, I heard you snitchin', you paid the hitter

Chanel purses and red bottoms, I'm bookin' tickets

My clip a 50, my money dirty, her pussy sticky

You give her hickeys, I fuck her, duck her and pass to Ricky

My palms itchy, I coulda swore I just hit the lotto

Safe house in Cabo, my Spanish bitch related to Blanco

My blanket Morocco, my carpet is Cuban

It's never ordinary, don't confuse me with humans

17 fire, what the fuck was you doin'?

Your bricks were 30 apiece and 28 if you knew him

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

My money on another level

She fuckin' ordinary niggas

Your bitch be fuckin' ordinary niggas

[Verse 4: Gunplay]

Limpin' like a pimp, jumpin' out the gym

6 Ring J's, every play's a win

Countin' cash in the huddle, blocka, flash from the muzzle

Spazz on a busta, beat your ass like a buzzer

Oh lord, here come the ball hogger

They call him Gunplay, they call him Don Logan

He a livin' legend, keep the engine revin'

And the firearm, bring the fire alarm

Fuck Donald Sterling, fuck him, fuck Donald Sterling

Fuck him, fuck Donald Sterling, screamin' fuck Donald Sterling

Load the clips with my clippers, tippin' all the strippers

They bitin' on my belt buckle, grippin' on the zippers

Snort a foul line, like it's child time

MMG, 305, our time

Yayo, I'm like a hundred Hannibal Lectors

Reppin' that animal shelter

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

My money on another level

She fuckin' ordinary niggas

Your bitch be fuckin' ordinary niggas

[Verse 5: French Montana]

Reportin' live from a white Wraith

Courting hinds with the white base

My number one shooter got a white face

Talkin' ladders with Atussin, we just fightin cases

Montana, but tonight I'm Tony Parker

Hop out, hundred chains on Florence Parker

Chasin' dead faces on the blue paper

Fightin' fed cases, you need law paper

My money on another planet

Talkin' fishscale, got the whole salmon

Hop out, sound like heavy metal

My money on another level

You fuckin' ordinary niggas

Wash head like Marbury, nigga

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

My money on another level

She fuckin' ordinary niggas

Your bitch be fuckin' ordinary niggas

[Verse 6: Rockie Fresh]

Nigga gettin' bucks off of tellin' my story

I come through in the clutch, I'm like Ray Allen at 40

Hit the shot and I splash, smoke a blunt, then I crash

I got a bad college bitch who like to fuck after class

She study for finals, I study the game

These niggas don't know me but his bitch screamin' my name

I be all over the union feelin' just like Dwyane

Smokin' three pounds of the thunder, it go straight to the brain

Just know the Bulls been the shit, wait 'til D Rose back

Niggas ain't playin', they commentatin' like Shaq

Two mil' on the deal, pull my ring and I'm back

And the whole team winnin', bitch look at the stacks

Open up, nigga, middle fingers up

We don't give a fuck, nigga

Stuntin' hard, I'm just tryna get a buck, nigga

Like Milwaukee, walkie talkie, where you at, nigga?

I'm gettin' stacks, nigga

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

My money on another level

She fuckin' ordinary niggas

Your bitch be fuckin' ordinary niggas

[Verse 7: Tracy T]

Pop champagne like I won a championship game

I keep that powder on me, nigga, like Lebron James

These niggas ordinary, Birdman, mercenary

Slam dunk a tickin' bitch, I'm pitchin' out the Panamera

Killed him in the paint, I swear to God I got a cemetery

Ain't nothin' but bad bitches to smash on my itinerary

30 shot'll have 'em flippin' like a patty and my bitches lookin' like

They fresh out pageants, Aston Martin, ridin' rapid

Drop top, choppers shootin' rampid, peel the leaf off of your cabbage

I assist 'em with that package when I pass it, fosho

I post up with it like Bosh, defense

I got a duffle bag full of them blocks, offense

Like Ray Allen with shots, cheerleaders, bitch

Got a tour bus full of thots

Team full of heat, I'm talkin' Erik Spoelstra

Yeah bitch, Erik Spoelstra and a nigga post up

[Chorus: Rick Ross]

My money on another level

She fuckin' ordinary niggas

Your bitch be fuckin' ordinary niggas

[Outro: Gunplay]

Fuck Donald Sterling, fuck him, fuck Donald Sterling, fuck him

Fuck Donald Sterling, screamin' fuck Donald Sterling

Screamin' fuck Donald Sterling, fuck him, fuck Donald Sterling

(Haaan) Fuck Donald Sterling, screamin' fuck Donald Sterling

Screamin