Inkredible-Trae Tha Truth/Rick Ross/Jadakiss

[** feat. Lil Wayne and Rick Ross:] [Trae:] Tha Truth back, let's get to bidness It's something unfamiliar Call it a foreign image Paint heavily leaking I guess it wasn’t finished Riding with something freaky They tell me she the business The chain clear, stones never cloudy 60 rats or better, n***a ask about me Certified gangsta, please don’t ever doubt me Welcome to the streets You can’t get in without me I'm Presidential, Obama painted the Vogues black Toping in the Chevy, top rollin' back My life a motion picture, b-tch I ain't gotta act I send em to your section, n-gga hold that It's raining scattered bullets Too late to run for cover, I drain em like Kobe Then I evacuate to the gutter On something that's pokey with looks And a trunk they’d like to stutter I rank as the king of the city It ain't gon' be another, (Inkredible, inkredible, inkredible, inkredible…) [Lil Wayne:] I'm sending shots, it's happy hour I shoot from close range, I'ma need a shower Brains in the sink, body on the counter Women and the kids, leave em how I found em I’m a real n-gga, stand still n-gga I cut ya face, have ya lookin' like Seal n-gga Then I pull ya card, then I deal witcha Gamble witcha life, is this your lucky night My B***h so f-cking right, every night I f-ck her twice Big boy money b-tch pockets on Charlie Wise Tatted up, I’m scarred for life Tell the cops I know all my rights Got choppas I don't mean Harley bikes Drop me like a bag of ice Shades dark, flag bright Wallet chain, chrome horse Hair to the f**king back, call that sh-t Rosa Parks Dr. Carter man I gave hip-hop open heart Young Money baby aka Noah's Ark Ahaha And I'm Noah! YOUNG MULA BABY [Rick Ross:] My money long, my temper short My cars foreign my d-ck a boss The guns new, the beef old I'ts time to come through like never before Liquid C4, look at me hoe Look into my eyes do you see a C.O? I'm talking kilo’s, time to reload (Creole words) – 'Shut the f-ck up' in Creole Bitch I’m paid up, get ya weight up Pillow top back, realest shade up I got them automatics so you know I'm automatic All my auto’s automatic you know that's automatic What you n-ggas wanna see Don't get caught in the street I got G’s that’ll wait for a quarter key, n-gga I'm living n-gga F**k the critics n-gga (f-ck em) Shit is serious n-gga You hear the lyrics n-gga (Yep!) It's Ricky n-gga