Lyrics
Run how you want, boss
Chill how you want, boss
Floss how you want, boss
Do whatcha like
Go rock your chain, boss
Pour that champagne, boss
Keep gettin' paid, boss
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, la la, la la
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, la la, la la
Do whatcha like
As I’m poppin' my collar, black on black antique impala
She ain’t gotta speak cause my speakers let her know that I’m ballin'
They call me the boss, I be callin' the shots
It’s Ricky Ross, that boy be ballin' a lot
That boy be ridin' big, that boy be ridin' rim’s
Not the flats but the fish cause they just swim
New York to the west, you a boss if you fresh
Scuff your shoes, wipe 'em down
Now get back on your two step
Stuntin' is boss
Shinin' is boss
Grand daddy kush, or the purt, yellow diamonds is boss
That dime a boss, she fine as a house
And she drivin' a Porsche, she designed for a boss
Run how you want, boss
Chill how you want, boss
Floss how you want, boss
Do whatcha like
Go rock your chain, boss
Pour that champagne, boss
Keep gettin' paid, boss
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, la la, la la
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, la la, la la
Do whatcha like
I’m ridin' big, I’m hoppin' lanes
My Chevy thang, got this chickens all insane
Look at my stones tap dancin' on the bezzle
Bad baby at the Rollie, lap dancin' and wanna kiss me
Oh no, cause of my chain
Cause of my bling, like a peacock standin' on my ring
Cause I’m a boss, I’mma spend it
I’mma floss, I’m a winner
You the loss, all these niggas
Sprinkle soft cause I’m the pepper and the salt
Whatcha feel, whatcha like
Whatcha want, what’s your type
I done seen it, done it twice, bought it up the same night
Cause I’m a boss, its Ricky Ross
If you buy, if you spend it, fuck the cost
You’s a boss, You a boss
Run how you want, boss
Chill how you want, boss
Floss how you want, boss
Do whatcha like
Go rock your chain, boss
Pour that champagne, boss
Keep gettin' paid, boss
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, la la, la la
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, la la, la la
Do whatcha like
Before the block got whipped
And they pistol got ripped
Before you got any chips
You got permission from the boss
On a mission for the charts, out-smart my competition
Composition so sharp, so dark, so vivid
26's on the old school
Pro tools session
Got the old school ho’s
Actin' brand new sweatin'
Brand new tennis chain, fancy pockets on my jeans
Headed for the walk dude, fore' they win him on the stage
Two a day, super pay
Stupid brain from a model
Triple c a hundred deep
And everybody got a bottle
Got a bottle full of purp
Full of work, no leachin'
Blew 50 last weekend, if you lookin' for a reason
I’m the boss
Run how you want, boss
Chill how you want, boss
Floss how you want, boss
Do whatcha like
Go rock your chain, boss
Pour that champagne, boss
Keep gettin' paid, boss
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, la la, la la
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, la la, la la
Do whatcha like