Til We Die Lyrics
| Song | Til We Die |
| Artist | Trey Songz |
| Artist | Rick Ross |
| Artist | Busta Rhymes |
| Album | Year of the Dragon |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Ft. Rick Ross & | |
| Trey Songz | |
| I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin’ on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we’re gonna stop | |
| That’s just absurd | |
| My little finger’s in the sky | |
| Screamin’ fuck a hater til the day a nigga die | |
| Yea, I got ‘em yellin’ “ | |
| Oh God, Lord” | |
| Presence fresh, your neck rise, sharp | |
| Tom Ford Fuck | |
| G4s, I charter private | |
| Concords And she through the sky like missiles when they dodge ball | |
| Toast them bottles with the booze | |
| Smell and stink like old money buried in the king’s tomb | |
| When you think we smell funny, certain niggas wanna watch ‘em | |
| When it comes to money | |
| I’m a nose fragrance, watch the flower blossom | |
| When it comes to bread, y’all niggas know it’s me | |
| I articulate beautiful like a poetry | |
| Hoes bring me that paper just like they all in 3’s | |
| Chip ‘em a revenue, | |
| God bless my rosaries | |
| Listen , that’s why your witness and your highness | |
| We’re celebratin’ success and sippin’ on the finest | |
| Most you motherfuckers need to learn to stand behind us | |
| When we come and dismantle you niggas quick and leave you spineless | |
| But that’s for you to dodge us | |
| I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin’ on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we’re gonna stop | |
| That’s just absurd | |
| My little finger’s in the sky | |
| Screamin’ fuck a hater til the day a nigga die | |
| She see me stackin’ cheese in my saggy sheets | |
| Silver and | |
| Sela, smokin’ lavender leaf | |
| Yellow Jesus piece, | |
| I still feed the streets | |
| I’m getting score, that | |
| Ferrari seats | |
| Riders at the top, get arrogant on ‘em | |
| Set a bottle off, you can ride if you wanna | |
| My money mandatory, slippy what deposits look | |
| Money green, | |
| Maserati with a body kit | |
| Dead presidents, got my name on the blim | |
| Fast in the residence based on a tip | |
| Playin innocent, the state attorney want a grip | |
| I’ve got enough, get with puff, | |
| I could make a flip | |
| Fuck the charge down for me to top the | |
| Forbes list | |
| I’m a fat boy, | |
| I but ‘em on that poor shit | |
| You see that money? | |
| I’m touchin’ mine | |
| It’s Rosay, | |
| Trey Songz, | |
| Busta Rhymes | |
| I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin’ on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we’re gonna stop | |
| That’s just absurd | |
| My little finger’s in the sky | |
| Screamin’ fuck a hater til the day a nigga die | |
| Hand on my heart while giving thanks and continued bustin’ these bottles open | |
| Passin’ the time, securin’ lanes, gurkin’ forgot smokin’ | |
| Controllin’ every room when | |
| I enter there start toastin’ | |
| Undecided on what to drive, think the garage is open | |
| As we do the impossible | |
| It seems successfully manifestin’ a thought and livin’ out the dream | |
| Leave an unforgettable mark of mud | |
| I be in it like adding a chapter to the | |
| Bible with my blood, listen | |
| Every day is like a weekend | |
| Like we never give a fuck, celebratin’ for no reason | |
| A convoy full of trucks, ain’t no question, we all eatin’ | |
| Then it’s silence when | |
| I talk like | |
| I’m hearin’ the | |
| Lord speakin’ now | |
| As they complain about my ways | |
| Cuz I’ll be grindin’, never sleepin’ just be ballin’ on for days | |
| Be fuckin’ every model, every weed in out the strays | |
| And then I’m bouncin’ that | |
| Bugatti slowly totin’ on the haze | |
| Then we pass this shit to | |
| Trey I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin’ on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we’re gonna stop | |
| That’s just absurd | |
| My little finger’s in the sky | |
| Screamin’ fuck a hater til the day a nigga die |
| Ft. Rick Ross | |
| Trey Songz | |
| I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we' re gonna stop | |
| That' s just absurd | |
| My little finger' s in the sky | |
| Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die | |
| Yea, I got ' em yellin' " | |
| Oh God, Lord" | |
| Presence fresh, your neck rise, sharp | |
| Tom Ford Fuck | |
| G4s, I charter private | |
| Concords And she through the sky like missiles when they dodge ball | |
| Toast them bottles with the booze | |
| Smell and stink like old money buried in the king' s tomb | |
| When you think we smell funny, certain niggas wanna watch ' em | |
| When it comes to money | |
| I' m a nose fragrance, watch the flower blossom | |
| When it comes to bread, y' all niggas know it' s me | |
| I articulate beautiful like a poetry | |
| Hoes bring me that paper just like they all in 3' s | |
| Chip ' em a revenue, | |
| God bless my rosaries | |
| Listen , that' s why your witness and your highness | |
| We' re celebratin' success and sippin' on the finest | |
| Most you motherfuckers need to learn to stand behind us | |
| When we come and dismantle you niggas quick and leave you spineless | |
| But that' s for you to dodge us | |
| I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we' re gonna stop | |
| That' s just absurd | |
| My little finger' s in the sky | |
| Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die | |
| She see me stackin' cheese in my saggy sheets | |
| Silver and | |
| Sela, smokin' lavender leaf | |
| Yellow Jesus piece, | |
| I still feed the streets | |
| I' m getting score, that | |
| Ferrari seats | |
| Riders at the top, get arrogant on ' em | |
| Set a bottle off, you can ride if you wanna | |
| My money mandatory, slippy what deposits look | |
| Money green, | |
| Maserati with a body kit | |
| Dead presidents, got my name on the blim | |
| Fast in the residence based on a tip | |
| Playin innocent, the state attorney want a grip | |
| I' ve got enough, get with puff, | |
| I could make a flip | |
| Fuck the charge down for me to top the | |
| Forbes list | |
| I' m a fat boy, | |
| I but ' em on that poor shit | |
| You see that money? | |
| I' m touchin' mine | |
| It' s Rosay, | |
| Trey Songz, | |
| Busta Rhymes | |
| I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we' re gonna stop | |
| That' s just absurd | |
| My little finger' s in the sky | |
| Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die | |
| Hand on my heart while giving thanks and continued bustin' these bottles open | |
| Passin' the time, securin' lanes, gurkin' forgot smokin' | |
| Controllin' every room when | |
| I enter there start toastin' | |
| Undecided on what to drive, think the garage is open | |
| As we do the impossible | |
| It seems successfully manifestin' a thought and livin' out the dream | |
| Leave an unforgettable mark of mud | |
| I be in it like adding a chapter to the | |
| Bible with my blood, listen | |
| Every day is like a weekend | |
| Like we never give a fuck, celebratin' for no reason | |
| A convoy full of trucks, ain' t no question, we all eatin' | |
| Then it' s silence when | |
| I talk like | |
| I' m hearin' the | |
| Lord speakin' now | |
| As they complain about my ways | |
| Cuz I' ll be grindin', never sleepin' just be ballin' on for days | |
| Be fuckin' every model, every weed in out the strays | |
| And then I' m bouncin' that | |
| Bugatti slowly totin' on the haze | |
| Then we pass this shit to | |
| Trey I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we' re gonna stop | |
| That' s just absurd | |
| My little finger' s in the sky | |
| Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die |
| Ft. Rick Ross | |
| Trey Songz | |
| I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we' re gonna stop | |
| That' s just absurd | |
| My little finger' s in the sky | |
| Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die | |
| Yea, I got ' em yellin' " | |
| Oh God, Lord" | |
| Presence fresh, your neck rise, sharp | |
| Tom Ford Fuck | |
| G4s, I charter private | |
| Concords And she through the sky like missiles when they dodge ball | |
| Toast them bottles with the booze | |
| Smell and stink like old money buried in the king' s tomb | |
| When you think we smell funny, certain niggas wanna watch ' em | |
| When it comes to money | |
| I' m a nose fragrance, watch the flower blossom | |
| When it comes to bread, y' all niggas know it' s me | |
| I articulate beautiful like a poetry | |
| Hoes bring me that paper just like they all in 3' s | |
| Chip ' em a revenue, | |
| God bless my rosaries | |
| Listen , that' s why your witness and your highness | |
| We' re celebratin' success and sippin' on the finest | |
| Most you motherfuckers need to learn to stand behind us | |
| When we come and dismantle you niggas quick and leave you spineless | |
| But that' s for you to dodge us | |
| I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we' re gonna stop | |
| That' s just absurd | |
| My little finger' s in the sky | |
| Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die | |
| She see me stackin' cheese in my saggy sheets | |
| Silver and | |
| Sela, smokin' lavender leaf | |
| Yellow Jesus piece, | |
| I still feed the streets | |
| I' m getting score, that | |
| Ferrari seats | |
| Riders at the top, get arrogant on ' em | |
| Set a bottle off, you can ride if you wanna | |
| My money mandatory, slippy what deposits look | |
| Money green, | |
| Maserati with a body kit | |
| Dead presidents, got my name on the blim | |
| Fast in the residence based on a tip | |
| Playin innocent, the state attorney want a grip | |
| I' ve got enough, get with puff, | |
| I could make a flip | |
| Fuck the charge down for me to top the | |
| Forbes list | |
| I' m a fat boy, | |
| I but ' em on that poor shit | |
| You see that money? | |
| I' m touchin' mine | |
| It' s Rosay, | |
| Trey Songz, | |
| Busta Rhymes | |
| I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we' re gonna stop | |
| That' s just absurd | |
| My little finger' s in the sky | |
| Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die | |
| Hand on my heart while giving thanks and continued bustin' these bottles open | |
| Passin' the time, securin' lanes, gurkin' forgot smokin' | |
| Controllin' every room when | |
| I enter there start toastin' | |
| Undecided on what to drive, think the garage is open | |
| As we do the impossible | |
| It seems successfully manifestin' a thought and livin' out the dream | |
| Leave an unforgettable mark of mud | |
| I be in it like adding a chapter to the | |
| Bible with my blood, listen | |
| Every day is like a weekend | |
| Like we never give a fuck, celebratin' for no reason | |
| A convoy full of trucks, ain' t no question, we all eatin' | |
| Then it' s silence when | |
| I talk like | |
| I' m hearin' the | |
| Lord speakin' now | |
| As they complain about my ways | |
| Cuz I' ll be grindin', never sleepin' just be ballin' on for days | |
| Be fuckin' every model, every weed in out the strays | |
| And then I' m bouncin' that | |
| Bugatti slowly totin' on the haze | |
| Then we pass this shit to | |
| Trey I got whatever | |
| I signed You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on | |
| Just have to have your mouth wide | |
| If you know that you plan on coming on | |
| On for what you.. | |
| And if you think we' re gonna stop | |
| That' s just absurd | |
| My little finger' s in the sky | |
| Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die |
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