Lyrics

Ross
Port of Miami, importing the candy
Ain't got nothing to lose, I'm just supporting my family
Never traffic for fun, only traffic for funds
All I seen was the struggle, it's like I'm trapped in this slum
Workers were barely paid, no water, we barely bathe
There better be better days on the way that's on my daddy grave
I'm pushing the hard, I'm pushing the soft
If he pushing a line, he pushing for Ross
I waited and waited, I done ran outta patience
They hated and hated, left 'em slow dancing with Satan
Fresh in my white tee, Mac-11, swear to God
I bought my first block, broke it down and tore the block apart
I push and I push, I ride and I ride
Tryna survive on 95
Put it all on the line, at the drop of a dime
I be pushin' them whips
Yes, three at a time
I'm pushin' it
I'm pushin' it
I'm pushin' it
I gotta (push it to the limit)
I'm pushin' it
I'm pushin' it
I'm pushin' it
I gotta (push it to the limit)
I handle dope like a vandal off the banana boat
Bananas in our rifles, no cyphers, I'm just the man to know
I paid dues, my moves done made news
I'm smooth, my suede shoes they new like Ray shoes
Nobody used to speak, now e'rybody wave
You dunk your mama house
You set your sister straight
I'm building a dream with elevators in it
Tailor made the linen, no gators got on my hater-vision
I see ya, I see ya suckas, I see ya clear
I know you see me in that Phantom whiter than veneers
Allergic to broke, determined to blow
On the boat we hid the work in detergent and soap
We ship it from Haiti, baby I'm whippin' them babies
Let it dry, let it dry, try to whip a Mercedes
Arrangin' my Range, y'all here to arrange a parade
You gotta push it to the limit if you wanna be paid
I push and I push, I ride and I ride
Tryna survive on 95
Put it all on the line, at the drop of a dime
I be pushin' them whips
Yes, three at a time
I'm pushin' it
I'm pushin' it
I'm pushin' it
I gotta (push it to the limit)
I'm pushin' it
I'm pushin' it
I'm pushin' it
I gotta (push it to the limit)
Now I run the streets, they all mine
12 years overdue, call it due time
I told you never roll on the soul of a soldier
You never know that dishwasher may be a beholder
Who ever thought that fat girl would grow into Oprah?
Or that boy Rick Ross would be moldin' the culture?
I push I push, we break the mold
We push we push we break the hole