Rick Ross

Rick Ross - Ten Jesus Pieces

rate me

Feat. Stalley

[Intro: Rick Ross]

God forgives, He's so honorable

But living amongst thieves and niggas like myself

You will not have that luxury

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]

I wake up excited, I made it through the night

Things I did in the dark, will it ever see the light?

My nurse should be a wreck, I got a bad chick

She keeps me erect, she loves my ad-libs

I think I'm a genius, hundred grand a fucking feature

I do at least three a week, roll up the fucking reefer

Went from Benihana to Bimini in Bahamas

Ten chains, no luggage, I'm a big timer

Niggas claim that they thugging when they dick-riding

My niggas rather walk, do they own brick climbing

On the block in my all white sneakers

Lord knows that my ten Jesus pieces

Pray for me cause you know a nigga doing wrong

My homie in the cell, so I had to write a poem

Count mills for the times that we had it hard

Asking for a hundred mill as I pray to God

[Hook: Rick Ross]

I do this for my niggas facing hard times

Empty on them corners if you hustling part time

Ten chains on, Eric B with mob ties

Rakim flows, coming from the far side

Blood diamonds and my pieces from apartheid

Quick, quote a prayer, pull it from the archives

I pray for every soul that this music reaches

Bury me a G, ten Jesus pieces

[Verse 2: Rick Ross]

Young nigga coming up, they wanna gun you down

Drinking vodka in the memory of my nigga, damn (I miss you Peanut)

Riding real slow on them all golds (we had them nigga)

Shopping for them Os when the mall close

Repping for your homies when they all gone

Get empowered then you put your dog on (Real shit)

All black tees, ten gold chains

At the Super Bowl, but we in the dope game

Ten years strong in the same trap

Ten years blowing on that strong pack

Lord knows that I wanna live right

But Lord knows what that Club Liv like (right)

Forty dollar tab meaning forty grand

Lord ? got it rolled up in a rubber band

Holding on the forty in his other hand

Ten chains on, smoking in the motherland


[Verse 3: Rick Ross]

I'm his poltergeist, niggas know I'm more than nice

All these jewels on, all ?

I could see it in the sparkle cause it lackluster

Black card maxed out, damn black brother

White collar, black minded

Chrome Smith and Wesson, back pocket

Eight shot, bitch I'm a top shotta

Screaming your affiliations, but that don't matter

I'm flyin' first class as the snakes slither

Never blackmail them, motherfucking killer

On trial and they wanna execute me

It's really sad, just the fact they never knew me

True G to the core, feel my texture

A true G keeps it raw in his lecture

Keep it simple, white tee, new sneakers

Dope boy style, ten Jesus pieces


[Verse 4: Stalley]

Versace shirt, Jesus laying on the chest

Man I swear Big did it the best, I mean

Nas did it fresh, Jay did it fresh, I mean

Ye did it fresh, but man Big did it the best

And I was so impressed that I went and got ten

Now I'm stunting on these niggas cause I couldn't back in

Rose gold, yellow gold, a couple platinum

And I wear them all at once, I ain't trying to match them

I remember bumping Mac 10 and that deuce in the corner

Scraping up for a sandwich and a soda

Now my strength is up and I'm dangling chains off my shoulders

But no Jesus piece on mine, cause at times I feel ashamed

For the reason that I rhyme

And they say, because I'm Muslim I shouldn't think about the shine

Or even put it in a rhyme

It's better things I could talk about or put my money towards

But for now, I'mma wear these ten chains and floss



We untouchable


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