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
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' rims
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
Grandaddy kush or the purp, yellow diamonds is boss
That dime a boss, she fine as a house
And she drivin' a Porche, 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, Ross, la la, Ross, la la
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la
Do whatcha like
I'm ridin' big, I'm hoppin' lanes
My Chevy thang got these 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'm a spend it, I'm a floss
I'm a winner, you the loss, all these niggas
Sprinkle salt 'cause I'm the pepper in the sauce
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, it's 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, Ross, la la, Ross, la la
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la
Do whatcha like
Before the rock got whipped and they pistol got gripped
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 hoes 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, Ross, la la, Ross, la la
Do whatcha like
Ross, la la, Ross, la la, Ross, la la
Do whatcha like
That's all Ross, them boys runnin' in the streets
See them candy paints, Dade County
Over town, livin' these city brown
Carol City, Oba Locka
The whole thrill five of my yayo, I see ya'll, Ross
Do whatcha like
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
See this song in a different language (automatic translation)
