The Finer Things Ramirez

[Intro]
Come right here, deep pockets, lil' bitch

[Verse 1]
They be like, "Who that? Who that?" It's the motherfucker with the strap
Lay 'em down one by one if these suckers don't pay the tax (Brra)
I can never fuck with a broke bitch unless they bring the scratch
Hoppin' out the '64, golden D's and the Kangol hat
There ain't no politickin' so don't you come my way
Ain't no dealin' with bitches who can't even hold their own weight
I'm like a lion in the jungle, better yet a gorilla
My mind is twisted from all the bullshit that I done witnessed
I never step foot out the crib without my nine-millimeter
A dosage of paranoia 'cause partner, these streets will eat ya
I done seen too many players fall victim up to the game
Some forget that this is chess and not checkers so plot your way

[Chorus]
I used to dream 'bout the finer things
Takin' my mama out the hood, whippin' wooden grains
But now I'm whippin' on a new one every single day
Pourin' the Ace of Spades, swimmin' in champagne, couple pinky rings
I used to dream 'bout the finer things
Takin' my mama out the hood, whippin' wooden grains
But now I'm whippin' on a new one every single day
Pourin' the Ace of Spades, swimmin' in champagne, couple pinky rings