Errday Meek Mill (Ft. Rick Ross)

[Intro: Rick Ross]
Meek ain't countin' money no more
If it ain't right, it ain't right
Zip the bag up
Drop it right there
Ugh!

[Verse 1: Meek Mill]
I got these niggas hatin' on me
But I don't give a fuck, because they bitches waiting on me
I'm just counting all this money, and buying all these hammers
So when these niggas play, I let my shooters go bananas
Diamonds flashing like a camera, my whip sound like a monster
My bitch got on that shit, she got a million dollar sponsor
These niggas getting sick, somebody call a doctor
Cause all this blood drippin', 20 racks I Louboutin her
I go Dolce & Gabana, Gucci Louis Prada
Fly as hell in YSL boy I got a lot of 'em
Madre and cabanas, that's where they probably find us
Jumpin' off the jet, like sayonara to ya honor

[Chorus: Rick Ross]
I spoil them bitches, I employ them niggas
Wipe my ass with the riches like it's some toilet tissue
Fuck with a winner, minks in the winter
Philadelphia millionaire, Meek be that nigga
Yo niggas hatin', my niggas ballin'
Poppin' bands, countin' dollars, buyin' the Magnum bottles
My bitch is patient, yo bitch is boring
Fucked her that Friday night
We both woke up that Sunday morning