I whip my heron with milk
All my boxers be silk
You pussy niggas should chill
We keep the city on tilt
I put on for my wolves down for my area code
We hit a lick, you go to prison -- gotta bury your dope
Respected highly, my nigga
Joey i.e., my nigga
So high with my niggas
Selassie ahi, my nigga
I recite only lethal, yet I'm labelled a poet
I get high in the cathedral and I feel so important
How I'm popping them bands, you man just won't stop
I fucked her in France, came out on top
If she wanted a bite, if she named the spot
But me being the boss, I took her straight to Wingstop
They itching, they itching, they itching for that paper
My fingers, they itching, they itching for that paper
Riding 'round the city and I got that calculator
I'm a motherfucking monster when it come to getting that paper
Itchin' Lyrics performed by Rick Ross are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Itchin' Lyrics performed by Rick Ross is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD