Supreme - Intellectual

[Produced by Scott Storch]

[Intro: Katt Williams & Rick Ross]

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

Anytime me and Scott Scorch get together, you gotta call us the Illuminati

Whenever you see the G, it represents God and geometry

That's what the stencil's for

I'ma take you deeper though

Nah, I'm just fuckin' with you

Aye, Scott, I'm just fuckin' with you, baby

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]

Speedin' in the Ghost, on the phone with jewelers

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

Warner to Chappell to BMI, 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

[Chorus: Keith Sweat]

Tell me it's real

Tell me this is real, baby

How does it feel?

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]

Geechi Liberace, I'm rich as a bitch

Charm city boys get a whole city of brick

Through the wire we wettin' niggas, set the shit on fire

My bitch smilin' I wanna bet, now we on Fisher Isle

Panamera with Tony Draper, briefcase full of paper

Made a killin' on Martin Luther, James Earl 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 take me to the cakebook

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 motherfuckin' 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 mop, 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]

Hey, hey...

You wanna know how does it feel

Hey, hey...

I know, I bet it must feel so real

Hey, hey...

Tell me it's real, I wanna know hey hey ey

How does it feel to be so real

[Outro: 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

And spent 10 thousand dollars on not her best bag

You underdig that