conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Luxury Tax with the following description: For “Luxury Tax”, track 13 on Trilla, Rozay recruits Jeezy, Lil Wayne and Trick Daddy for a braggadocios banger.
  The track describes the lifestyles of the rich and famous, and the many luxuries you become accustomed to when as wealthy as Ross.
  It makes sense the featured artists were picked for the song, as Weezy was sitting on a monumental net worth of over $15 million, and Jeezy  was celebrating the success of his platinum selling album The Recession. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro: Lil Wayne]
  E-Class, I think we got a problem
  [Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
  Yeah, big money in this bitch, if you didn't knew
  Big business, minus the business suit
  Even I look in the mirror, like "Is it you?"
  Then I say "I must be the hottest if it isn't you"
  Stay fresh, from my top to my tennis shoes
  New coupe, no top, big tennis shoes
  Never slippin', even on the side of a swimming pool
  We don't get ridiculed, we get rid of fools
  They said I couldn't play football, I was too small
  They said I couldn't play basketball, I wasn't tall
  They said I couldn't play baseball at all
  And now every day of my life, I ball
  And they say you ain't great until someone assassinate
  And I feel like MLK
  Yeah, "I Have a Dream" to be your worst nightmare
  Now meet The Boss of The Cartel, Ross
  [Verse 2: Rick Ross]
  I'm a sinner, not Satan
  Sittin' on Lorenzos and I seem really patient
  Picture the equation
  People takin' pictures and they really gettin' flagrant
  Flaggin' down my spaceship, sergeant sniffin' for a fragrance
  Yayo! Yayo! He wanna sniff the yayo
  Flyin' saucer on the hasa, in the casa just to lay low
  Make more money man, that's the motto for the mob
  Need a blow-job, my motto, get a model for the job
  Go hard, no job, hustler, no prob
  Post up, nigga what? Finger-fuck your whole squad
  Forty round extend-o, flip it for my kinfolk
  Luxury tax on them packs, if you didn't know
  Bought a new crib, niggas feelin' like I hid
  3.2, but I did it for the kids
  More guns than a pawnshop
  Got my whole arm rocked
  Keep the 760 double-parked in the wrong spot
  Still hustlin', 
  boss [Chorus: Lil Wayne]
  Yeah, you gotta pay for this
  I remember when I used to pray for this
  This, this is classic, some shit you might not see again
  And we taxin', you don't want it, nigga, leave it then
  And we taxin', you don't want it, nigga, leave it then
  And we ain't tryna see the Pen
  Like a needle in a haystack, we ain't tryna see the 'pin'
  This is a luxury tax
  [Verse 3: Jeezy]
  Yeah, imagine this, no, imagine that
  Gave me my sack, like "Good luck getting back"
  I'm like, "The fuck I'm gon' hide it at?"
  And if I'm not careful, be the same place they find it at
  And I'm a winner, if I make it across the finish line
  Puttin' food on the table like it's dinner time
  And this is what you call stereotyping by far
  Can you tell me my your dog keep sniffin' my car?
  Got the audacity to call me a liar
  So what you got in your trunk?
  Oh, just a spare tire
  You niggas talked blow, while I sold mine
  Like a bad cramp, it's lockin' up in no time
  More time in the kitchen than I spent in the studio
  "Gangsta's Paradise", and I ain't talkin' 'bout Coolio
  Can't lie, still addicted to the odour
  Got a ice cold Pepsi, still thinkin' Coca-Cola [Chorus: Lil Wayne]
  Yeah, you gotta pay for this
  I remember when I used to pray for this
  This, this is classic, some shit you might not see again
  And we taxin', you don't want it, nigga, leave it then
  And we taxin', you don't want it, nigga, leave it then
  And we ain't tryna see the Pen
  Like a needle in a haystack, we ain't tryna see the 'pin'
  This is a luxury tax
  [Verse 4: Trick Daddy]
  I'm up early in the morning and I'm dressed in black
  Hold on, every morning I get dressed in black
  While y'all half-ass, nigga my pants saggin'
  I'm gettin' money and my swag, 
  black-flaggin'
  Million dollar status, fully automatic
  Heavy on the Henny, even harder on the women
  If it wasn't for Reverend, I'd probably be pimpin' and shit
  Pops, my papi, is already in me
  I tried trappin', shit sent me to prison
  Got mad and went to snappin', so homicide came to visit
  I smell gun powder, so you got one hour
  To come up with every damn dollar; or you're done, dollar
  It costs to ball, dog
  Especially when the players on your team consider you as the ball hog
  You treat me like Shaq, and you Kobe
  But I ain't say you owe me, nigga
  But act like you know me, nigga [Chorus: Lil Wayne]
  Yeah, you gotta pay for this
  I remember when I used to pray for this
  This, this is classic, some shit you might not see again
  And we taxin', you don't want it, nigga, leave it then
  And we taxin', you don't want it, nigga, leave it then
  And we ain't tryna see the Pen
  Like a needle in a haystack, we ain't tryna see the 'pin'
  This is a luxury tax