I just got the f**k off a plane
6 car garage, I got more than 1 job
Be a boss, go hard
Wake up, smelling kush when I yawn
Shorty wanna f**k with the king, tired of them pawns
Ain’t on the top? Well, that’s nonsense
Bank account full of G’s, so that’s all you gon’ get
TSA know my face so they don’t trip
Chain frost, big b***h that I’m with don’t give me no lip
We done touch M’s, now we on to billions
Hard to explain how these new rugs feeling
Blowin’ kush up in high ceiling’s
Having meetings at the crib, confidential dealings
And I ain’t gotta tell you who the realest is
That’s my n***a Spitta, foreign cooked chef
And where the kitchen is
Money straight where my business is
And the girls f**k with me so I’m always where the b**hes is
Kid
I see all the s**y mami’s in here
Hey, ayy, Wiz I smell you up here, too
Make sure you pa** that KK to the DJ booth
Aw s**t, here comes Spitta on them gold BBS
Yep, swung through, gold BBS and the spoiler kit
1986, slinging that s**t
They want the family price on them bricks
But I just had a son and I only love him
So I ain’t coming down on the price
Ain’t no where else you gon’ get s**t this nice
Got c**aine white, Air Force Nikes
Bought K-Swisses for all my b**hes
Put hightop troops on all my shooters
Bought the Goose down jacket from the boosters
Shootouts on the roof, racing in them coupes
She wore the Gucci frames with the door knocker hoops
And the lying motherf**er tell you I ain’t the truth
Rich uncle come through, pop the truck, pull the duffel
Lay the merchandise out, get the loot, motherf**er
East side real n***a, show ya how to hustle
Outside, put the f*****g Chevrolet’s on the bumper
If it don’t hop, n***a, park that s**t
That ain’t no low rider, thats a rollin’ imposter
Put the stocks on fool, quit playing like you out here
2009, all kind of high
How Fly had fools on the moon trying to drive
Its a stoned duo, solid gold judo
Kicked the f**k out that game and now she won’t go
Ladies, if you ain’t go your own drinks, you gotta get out the section
You heard my man Spitta
Fellas, raise your gla**es
Tip your bartenders
And make sure you take that n***a b***h
We bout to ride out
Jet Life, Taylor Gang, ow