Pots and Pans - Rick Ross, J Rock

This what I’m talkin' 'bout right here

Ross

Just make the shit work a while, my nigga

Triple C’s

All I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans

Lil' ice up, what I can

Chick at home sayin' I’m no good

Fuck that I’m gettin' out the hood

All I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans

Lil' ice up what I can

Chick at home sayin' I’m no good

Fuck that I’m gettin' out the hood

What started as a nickel rock

Took 22 months, now I’m tryna get a block

Fuck football, I’m goin' down another path

Couldn’t pass the test, to tell the truth

I couldn’t fuck with math

I did get a scholarship, but I blew that

Got high, got a ticket and I flew back

To the hell zone, most straps stand 20 shell toes

Get life on ya cell phone

Quarter ki' box of soda, Ross whip that

Career criminal fo' sho', Ross with that

Had to pull my pants up, go and get 'em brands up

Daddy died from cancer, I never had the chance to

Tell him all my plans to, let em' fuck a dancer

Smokin' weed in Amsterdam with his grandson

Why he passed on me, my last homie

I went and bought a bird

I want some cash homie

All I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans

Lil' ice up, what I can

Chick at home sayin' I’m no good

Fuck that I’m gettin' out the hood

All I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans

Lil' ice up what I can

Chick at home sayin' I’m no good

Fuck that I’m gettin' out the hood

I never rode a nigga coat tail, made her took a dope sell

Fuck it nigga, o wells, smokin' on that classified

Rollin' in that Lac' of mine

You know my mind stay numb to the world half the time

Thinkin' 'bout Land Rover, damn near was fucked up

Found him in the trunk with another dude, fucked up

The world fucked up, that’s why I’m fucked up

Don’t get fucked up, fuck with me, you fucked up

Bitch I’mma ride, bitch I’mma die

When I holla 3−0-5, bitch, that’s on my life

Got a 40 in the car, a choppa in the crib

The grenades down the street, you gotta git it how you live (Triple C’s)

I know niggas turn 1 into 2 and they do what they do

And boi 'em thangs move

Fish scale get the big mail

In the room full of work

In case they came when they inhale

All I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans

Lil' ice up, what I can

Chick at home sayin' I’m no good

Fuck that I’m gettin' out the hood

All I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans

Lil' ice up what I can

Chick at home sayin' I’m no good

Fuck that I’m gettin' out the hood

It’s time fo' me to cash in, laughin'

Like Martin in Aston, Martin

When I park it, I can see ya bitch heart-beat

So roll out the red carpet, roll up the purple shit

Black navigator flew

Gotta shut ya fuckin' mouth, don’t ever take the smooth

Thinkin' of a greater way, to build a greater flow

I hope she got some great head, that’s how I grade a hoe

White Beamer in the hood shinin' like a star

Look this half a ki' go to the club and I’mma buy the bar

Do it twice a week fuckin' bitches on the other nights

Promise E-class we’ll never miss another fight

Hundred in the bag 5 birds I’mma grab

Turn em' into 8, keep me a clean half

Bakin' soda in the work works wonderful

You see ya dreams come true cause I’m the truth

All I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans

Lil' ice up, what I can

Chick at home sayin' I’m no good

Fuck that I’m gettin' out the hood

All I need is bakin' soda, some pots and pans

Lil' ice up what I can

Chick at home sayin' I’m no good

Fuck that I’m gettin' out the hood