Itchin'

Rick Ross

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    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

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    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

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