"Work" lyrics - MEEK MILL

MEEK MILL
"Work"
feat. Rick Ross

Rolling, we're rolling!
Yeah!

Riding with the stick, puffing on the purp
Overtime on you niggas, going to work!
I'm going to work, I'm going to work
Overtime on you niggas 'cause I'm going to work
I'm gonna get it any means necessary
'Cause you know I'm 'bout my paper like a secretary
I'm going to work I'm going to work I'm going to work

Gotta go to court tomorrow, DA on my dick
So I'mma wear my Audemar, just to make her sick
I might go yellow prezi on her, just to make her pissed
Then go home and break a brick and break it down to bacon bits
I'm going to work I'm going to work
The phone's popping, like we on the first
We up in Neiman's, we going berserk
A nigga cross me, he going to church
Ridin' through the hood, back of the 'Bach
Started in the front, now they in back of the back
No love for the haters, no rap for the rats
Velcro shorty, we strapper than strapped, work
Half you niggas telling so we never sell 'em work
They don't wanna come and get it then we mail 'em work
Put my money in it so you know it better work
And my shooters with me so you know they put it work

I might go buy a boat tomorrow, just to take a trip
Big belly rude boy, bad Jamaican bitch
Or head straight to Colombia, I'm talking Bogota
Ship 'em up to Philly, Milly living like he Gorbachev
Not the Reagen Era but a nigga making cheddar
? And I'm never telling
The game sweet soda, seats watermelon
Clip full of sunflower seeds in my Mac-11
And I study motherfuckers like a student felon
Book bags full of blocks and those bitches selling
I'm going to work I'm going to work
I'm going to work I'm going to work

Got some youngins that'll murder for a new bike
Have you looking like you're fresh up out a food fight
Spaghetti on your head, shirt ketchup red
Shooting banana clips, we ain't ever scared
Niggas say they looking for me, they ain't ever there
I'm like a Metro Phone Store 'cause I'm everywhere
I'm gone get it any means necessary
'Cause you know I'm 'bout my paper like a secretary
Gave my nigga fifty years, forever buried
He said he gon' make it home like he never worried
Free my homie Rick, and free the homie Brick
Doin' hard time, love the 36
Tried to get her number, shorty she ain't know me then
She wanna fuck me now, I'm like you dirty bitch
Rookie of the year, 'cause I murder shit
In them way back, 'cause it's Maybach