[Intro] Welcome to the home of the brave {Maybach Music} ROZAY~!! Ugh So +Self Made+ I can still count a mill' without a money machine nigga
[Rick Ross] Got on my darkest shades, this man is made Inherit no riches, Jehovah's my witness Physical fitness, home economics In the kitchen digital scales producin the product Cut the noose off my neck, black runaway slave In the coupe with the Tec, it's the home of the brave They wanna know names, they totin them thangs Never wanted the fame, just wanted the Range I needed some change, momma needed a raise She stayed in a rage, hated minimum wage I'm feelin the same, all these criminals paid Wearin Ballys and gold, I'm sellin dope shameless to say And maybe one day I could put this pain away Until then I'ma be a D-boy I'm ashamed to say I'm ashamed to say Until then I'ma be a D-boy I'm ashamed to say
[Chorus; repeat 2X] \"Honey, it's shameless\" \"Shameless, what you've done\" Until then I'ma be a D-boy I'm ashamed to say Until then I'ma be a D-boy I'm ashamed to say
[Rick Ross] Before I was a fetus, had the genes of a leader I mean look at my features, educated my teachers I was callin them plays, you were still in the bleachers Booby gave me the game, change to give me some sneakers Now I'm roamin the block, car missin the top Meanin missin the roof, hope you listenin y'all I was dealt a few blows, I felt a few lows Even shed a few tears, I travelled that road Went from walkin on gravel, now I'm ridin on Vogues Fifty M's in the bank, I get me two hundred I'm gone Still so close to the hood, I'm ashamed to say All the money in the world can't take this pain away It's just another story at the campfire Or courtside seats with the franchise I think about my niggaz doin twenty-five Shining bright, who am I for you to criticize?
[Chorus]
[Rick Ross] I'm smokin psychedelics, I hustle like a felon Hottest record label, but still and all I'm chillin Not a crack in my voice, this young nigga so poised First I stack me some money then go to war with them boys Anybody can get it, hand his Manny some tissues Better ring the alarm cause we bringin them pistols Heaven singing them songs, speakin on sensitive issues These emotional niggaz, and most of them killers They movin in silence, but they follow your Twitters These the games that they play they study your Instagram pictures See I live by the code, that the mafia wrote When he ran his mouth, me I'd rather the smoke I'd rather listen, he had to ask permission I had to make a way, I had to add commission Until this day I'm slang, the commission remains Now I'm worth over a billion, I'm ashamed to say
