Lyrics

Rick Ross – In Vein ft. The Weeknd Lyrics

(Intro – The Weeknd)
I don’t got a single sober vein in my body
I don’t got a single sober vein in my body

(Verse 1 – The Weeknd)
Don’t apologize, I quite enjoy messy
I see that bottle after bottle got you going crazy
And doing shows after shows got me so lazy
So ride it out for me, and take it off for me
It’s a good vibe, good vibe, good vibe
Don’t you ever threaten ni**as with a good time
She wanna buy a dream, I said I don’t sell it
But she can rent it for a night, I don’t mind, open wide
Cause all this fame, I earned it, I might as well use it
Private elevator going straight to my unit
All my ni**as round me, getting kickback pu**y
All my killas round me, all be hiding in Stussy
Can’t nobody stop me, used to be homeless
Now that penthouse at the Ritz where my home is
Tour bus like a National Geographic
Bi**hes running wild getting faded in the bathroom

(Chorus – The Weeknd)
It makes me smile, it makes me smile
Cause I got it
It makes me smile, it makes me smile
Cause I got it
All the pain, sweat and tears, just to get a piece
But now we got it
Man look at the kid now, can nobody stop me?
I don’t got a single sober vein in my body

(Verse 2 – Rick Ross)
F**k her like a thug ni**a, young ni**a, new Ferrari
Old money, I just fraid the Lord with us
Condo blow money, like it’s all dope money
Come short wet ni**as, like a speed boat coming, oh Lord
Mo money, mo money, these rich young ni**as ain’t ever know money
Belaire running down the Rollie on her arm
Pinky ring six hundred, what you know about it
I’m the champ, baby, Real Deal Holyfield
Got the bi**hes, want it dirty, went and bought the crib
25 mil, I’m doing 25 to life
100 acres, keep my shooters all through the night
Every chandelier ran a ni**a, one-mil
20 chandeliers motherf**ker who real
I just wanna show her what I live like
Wearing a white Birking on a winter night
F**k a Birking, now she in the Bentley
That’s when she went and tatted double M G
Now I balling deep, deeper than the rap
She give me brain she a mastermind to be exact
She a mastermind to be exact
I give her game and she give it back
Sip syrup so I f**k slow, sip more I wanna f**k more
Gotta grind till your eyes close,
Stay strapped till the trap close
They scream Maybach on the cell blocks
All my dawgs who used to sell blocks
They say the ni**as in the jail talk
How your homies commissary fell off
What make it worse he get an elbows
25 to life dead wrong on the cell phone

(Repeat Chorus)