Перевод песни Rick Ross – Maybach Music
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Sweeeeeeeeeeet! Ha-ha-ha! Come and take a ride Come and take a ride Billionaire Yayo JUSTICE LEAGUE 57 years, yes! Blood for a D-Boy Hand my mack 11 to the engineer to record Got the baddest women in the world for me to feed on Double deck yacht, docked Boss, blowing weed up Revenue incredible, it put me on a pedestal Columbia to Mexico, I figure there was a better rule Look at me, a model now Models and bottles 'round A Blood holla', ballin' But the boys in blue, shot 'em down Gang-affiliated, colors prosecutors painted 'Cause the niggas I employed, name synonymous with Mi-Yayo Instrumental that are mental, Maybach kind of mental 400 off the lot, the block is monumental Some things money can't buy Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride In the rear, so many instruments I hear Tucked behind curtain, no signs to fear (ROSS!) I'm higher than a leer / Aaliyah This Maybach music, designer shit I wear May cause you to lose it Close your eyes and inhale the smoke It's Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote, nigga! 5 ounces, take a toke Of this Maybach music, the realest shit I wrote BOSS! YOUNG! F**k it then! Black Maybach, white seas, black piping Remind me of Paul McCartney and Mike fighting You know, The Girl Is Mine Life's A Bitch+, so The Whole World Is Mine The six-deuce long, the curtains are drawn Perfectly like a Picasso, Rembrandts and Rocco's I'm a major player, 40−40's in Vegas at the Palazzo They said it was not so Certain things that money can't buy Like being this fly 'Til then, I'm just gonna'ride! I'm like G-Rap with better transportation On the road to the riches, reach my (Final Destination) And the lair, closer to a leer / Aaliyah Say a Prayer, hope I get ta'see her When I disappear from here — baby, yeah! But I don't see the ending through these millionaire lenses Just the Two M's on the emblem The partition roof, translucent and Humador Where refrigerators, where Ace of Spades — two I store! True story, my closet is like two stories Cut to the happy ending, 'cause I don't do stories Shawn Corey, real rap The Maybach is bananas, peel back! You feel that? YOUNG! C'mon! Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin'in my Maybach 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back Since way back, since way back 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back! Realest shit I ever wrote, chillin'in my Maybach 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back Since way back, since way back 8-track episodes, been doing this since way back! BOSS! Can't be stopped now We got too much cake They pinching pennies, while I'm muscling for meals And the muscle be that muzzle, when I stuff it in your grill Stuffed shells — thanks to crack, I crack Crab and lobsters, not all mobsters Imposters — got cha! Boy, I got an eagle view, slanted on my balcony Can only stay a week or two, so many people out for me I bulletproofed the Maybach Got a killer's intuition Holding on that mack 11, Makaveli premonition Waiting on my Suge Knight One nation under God, since I chose a thug's life Guess I gotta'play my part Never will I die, my name symbolize The hustle for young killers coming from the other side Some things your money can't buy Like Heaven in the sky, even a better ride I'm large, my black car Menagin'black broads, massage for frauds I'm livin'large, sellin'fat rocks In the Killin'Field of hip-hop Runnin'up on the car, you get popped, mopped and dropped! I'm The Boss!