[LYRICS] Pusha T ft. Rick Ross

You know what happen when G.O.O.D. Music and MMG get together, right?We get that money

Millions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closet

This that shit that y’all wantedThis shit cook up hard, don’t it?Y’all gotta beg my pardon on itBut this shit sound like God don’t it?Yuugh, I’m tired, nigga and y’all gotta pay your tithes, niggaCall my Phantom the holy ghost, church on chrome wheel tires, niggaPop tags when I’m paranoid, cause the pawn shop was my paradiseI was dead pop when that powder came for that knot saved in that shoe boxBlue tops, blue tops, bad bitch in that blue foxThis big face is in Blu-ray and these black diamonds like boondocksI restore the feelin’ of when niggas made a killin’Hidin’ choppas in the closet, half a million in the ceilingAnd them hoes with angel faces, cryin’ loud with ill intentionsJust so I can buy them Christians, have ’em shittin’ on all they bitches, ah!

Millions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closet

I’m haunted by horror stories, wanna-be home ownersHorrible outcome, a dope boy got one motiveCries when he convicted, cried on every visitI’m cryin’ sayin’ his name, ride for all my niggasUsed to fiddle my finger ’til I found me a fortuneFinger fuck a Ferrari, south of France early morningDid drugs with Donatella, Versace my A CapellaNever see me in Neiman’s, niggas committin’ treasonSoft loafer preferred, frost, organic herbStay away from the Forbes, if I only could tell you moreI got this I got that, I got that I got thisGot a kilo for 20, my choppas say I’m the shit

Millions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closet

This that shit y’all ask forMake a nigga mash on the gas, floorTwo-door, four-door, roll through the hood like task forceFast forward–oops! They say they wanna see proofMy record sales ain’t much as theirs and we still ride the same coupesHow we still fuck the same hoes, why we still buy the same clothesHow we both got the same watch, I’m just keepin’ y’all on y’all toesDope boys, gold mine, that price drop and that coke riseThen set it over that blue flame then hang it dry like clotheslineI restore the feelin’ of when niggas made a killin’Hidin’ choppas in the closet, half a million in the ceilingGot the razor on the counter, Arm & Hammer in the kitchenJust to keep my feet in Christians and keep fuckin’ all y’all bitches

Millions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingMillions millions in the ceilingChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closetChoppas choppas in the closet

This that shit that ya’ll wantedThis shit sound like God don’t it