Fiend - Flyin Iron lyrics

[Intro - Fiend] Uh SL Jones Wanna say I'm so happy to be on the West coast right now, believe that You know They call me SL Jones [Verse - Fiend] West Coast, right off the plane Hello MaryJane Let go my favorite strain From my lungs to my veins Brown hush puppy smooth she choose is presidential Any residential feel me on them instrumentals Old man on the fiddle told me 'Jones, Live a little' Ever since then, it's been hot up off the griddle I love the color red, don't bang I'm out here gettin money don'tcha want the same thang? Jazz-fest and voodoo, the sh** we smoke is stanky like doo-doo Ima do what I do, you can do what you do SL roll spears but I've never rolled in Zulu I've been a monster on the screen, via Hulu Microphone attached to my palm when Im on A third-world country domestically where I'm from I was a fly mof**a, before I put my tennices on, so fly They see me from the sky like the Pentagon [Verse - Curren$y] Yeah, Yeah, Jets n***a Uh, crumblin sugar green Sweet tooth bite down Crush a s**a n***a dreams, ya mean? Ballin chinky-eyed, yao ming T-top, Chevy Box, 2-door Caprice I just got From eBay to my driveway, I buy now Why not? Might as well cry now Curtain closed on ya Everybody left the show on ya, empty the rows on ya Fine, pretty, fresh to d**h, I might as well throw a rose on ya They wylin' in my section, poppin bottles, might get some Rose on ya Hittin switches in that '59, I got low and then I rose on ya Early morning, late night flow on ya Basketball shorts, maybe light robe on ya Light it up, throw the strobes on ya Pilot talkin the code on ya, somewhere known on ya When I swing them corners, them hoes no longer wantcha Jets.. Fool