Stack on My Belt Songtext
von Rick Ross feat. Wale, Whole Slab & Birdman

Self-Made niggas man, you already know
I remember we use to watch the coke dry
Now a nigga crib gotta a boat dock
MMG navy nigga, high tide sellers
D.C. air-force, G-5s are better, you already know nigga
All gold sky-dwellers, fly nigga shit
Bel Air sippin′, Ciroc pissin', foreign car dippin′
Young black millionaires nigga, we build the empires

I spend a stack on my belt, I swear you niggas are watching
I gave a stack to my bitch, she the shit out the project
Spend a stack on my belt, therefore you bitches are stalking
A half a mill on the car, that's why you niggas are talking
Spend a stack on my belt, as if you think I was flogging
Spend a stack on my belt, and you could still see my boxers
Spend a stack on my belt, that how I blew your deposits

Stack on the belt, double M this shit popping


Spend a stack on my belt, got bitches asking my name
Spend a stack on the belt, she like fuck how we came
Double all in the front, ya'll niggas stay in your lane
Spend a stack on my belt, don′t even ask ′bout the change
Spend a stack on the belt, cause I knew she a wife
Spend a stack on the belt, cause my fooleys on time

Spend a stack on the belt, I got your bitch on my mind
The world is mine

Spend a stack on my belt, better tell these rappers to chill
Hold up that's Earlesman, more H and I be more trap ass for real
And I got mosquino, Ye know that R.I.P. flow, here go
That type of freak show, with three shows that we don′t need no more help
That Givenchy go for three, just me Rozay and the clique
I make these bitches suck on Cs, you make them suck on there teeth, let's get it
Ralph, Klauph, meow, they bounce, we hit, ab-lib, your BITCH, her mouth
Stack on the belt, just know that′s nothing to me
My soldiers real in the 'ville, you WWE
Of course we see them punks faking, but we leave them slump shaking
Don′t believe your cane stories, I should leave ya'll undertaking
A stack on my belt, 250 my ride
Went from renting these mother-fuckers to owning 4 with no miles

I pray my souls is in tact, passion in the bulk of my rhyme
And when I hit that heat game I'm this close to LeBron
I′m gone


I′m burning the back, I'm swerving Maybach
I Versace my belt, I done Hermes my flag
Got a stack around my waist, keep my bitch on the leash
She goin′ eat this head up, on this dick she goin' feast
Time fuck with the pleats, my place is packed
Red hoes in my stable, ya my babies is bad
She spent a stack on my belt, now she calling me father??? giving mollies to models

I manage these strippers, Giuseppe′s with zippers
Playing with the whole slab, niggas started with niggas
Rose gold on my wrist, rose gold on my shades
Spend a stack on my belt, 100 done on my face

Spend a stack on my belt, so I could stunt when I shine
Get the mac off the shelf, keep these pussies in line
Spend a stack on my belt, 10 at the bar

Blow a mill on a whip serving niggas that raw
Spend a stack on the belt, Versace my kind
Put 5 on his life, put 5 in his mind
Spend a stack on the belt, bitch we the real niggas
Plaques on the wall, born to kill niggas
Stack on that belt, ho
Stack on that belt, ho
Spend a stack on the belt, ho
Gotta stack for the freak show, all I need is a ...
Double M, YMCMB boy