Rick Ross - Season Ticket Holder Lyrics

Hey, UD (Maybach Music)
What's good, my boy?
Mr. 3-0-5 (yes sir), Wade County
Sixteen years later
We done made history
Three rings on our fingers
Pockets gettin' fatter (uh)
Nigga, we gettin' greater

I'm the son of a saint (mm)
Still considered a sinner (ha)
Three rings on his finger (what?)
Yeah, that boy was a winner (winner)
Never known as a singer
But this might be a single (facts)
Always bet on your homies
Then go buy the casino (ballin')
Ball is my passion
Check my stats if they askin' (uh)
Shorty checkin' my page (she what?)
She follow my fashion (I'm clean)
My life is a film and Gab's the lead (my first lady)
She's so precious to me
That's the air that I breathe (time to go)
Time to fuel up the jet (where we goin'?)
D. Wade jersey the drip (yup)
Lamborghinis to match (woo)
Count through G's on the strip (we out)
These haters beneath us (uh-huh)
As I'm lacin' my sneakers (you D. Wade?)
Season sixteen (yeah)
Lamborghinis and Neiman's

I'm shootin' my shot (shot)
Every car that I cop (cop)
Every record I break (break)
Every rock in my watch (ah)
Every step that I take (take)
Still won't accept no mistakes (nah)
I'm talkin' major league, never minimum wage
So proud to be niggas (niggas)
The decent of a slave (uh)
Motorcades, several Mercedes
So get out my way
Tangerines, deal in my slippers
Still twistin' up dank (uh)
Shed a tear for all my homies
Black Bo and E. Gates (Black)
Let's find a masseuse (uh)
Then inspire the youth
If it's best for the hood
Then let's call it a truce
My chains get tangled (tangled)
These niggas be hateful (hate)
My mama still prayin' (prayin')
So really I'm grateful (Ella)
(Maybach Music)

I'm still here lookin' through the window
Watchin' the days go by
Watchin' the sun rise
Why don't you try?
Ah-ha-ah-ha
Ah-ha

I'm still here lookin' through the window
Watchin' the days go by
Watchin' the sun rise
Why don't you try?
Ah-ha-ah-ha
Ah-ha-ah-ha

I promise to pray for a positive fate
Had the world in your palms
But he caught him a case
Shed a tear in the court
He got boxed in the crate
Then they shipped him up North
Mom just sat in a daze
The bottles on ice (ice)
The models be nice (yeah)
We call it run and shoot
Any problems tonight (uh)
Serve 'em like Boris Becker
I want two hundred checkers
So if they wanna slow our records
It just won't affect us
Take my boys to Mecca (boss)
All my niggas blessed (Maybach Music)
Smokin' with my dogs
You can smell the relish
They try to give me hell
I'll bet I get to heaven (yeah)
I stay away from twelve
I'm such a gifted felon (ah)
I'm seated on the floor (floor)
She can see the loafers (hoo)
Showin' love to the season ticket holders (woo)
Showin' love to the season ticket holders (woo)
Showin' love to the season ticket holders (woo)

We do this for the city U
What? The whole city

I'm still here lookin' through the window
Watchin' the days go by
Watchin' the sun rise
Why don't you try?
Ah-ha-ah-ha
Ah-ha

I'm still here lookin' through the window
Watchin' the days go by (Man how does it feel? you grew up here)
Watchin' the sun rise
Why don't you try? (How does it feel?)
Ah-ha-ah-ha (Shit it feel great, baby)

I never been to South Beach 'til I got the DMV
I just want you to know that my boy
Man listen, we put on for the city, sixteen years
Five finals, three rings, we put those trophies over our head
We put on for the
Shit, man let me calm down man,
Don't calm down ('fore I say something in this booth)
Ride out my nigga, ride out, ride out ('fore I say something in this booth that)
You the motherf*ckin' Mr. 305 nigga, do what you do
Nigga I got my own county (man)
Listen the love of the city has been crazy man, I appreciate it all
Thanks for giving me my own county
I told these niggas man, you got the beach
I gotta cross that bridge
Niggas can't play with us man
You can't do nothing around here boy
Hey Ross, man ain't nothing but love baby
Big homie, you know what is always
Still with the shits three rings later though (ah-ha-ah-ha)