Jet Life - Bossed Up lyrics

Real n***as coming up, fake n***as laying down Trademark I'm here to stay, guaranteed you'll see me 'round Stuntin' in some sharp apparel, khaki slacks, I'm laxed and casual With a focused mind, I'm on a straight of narrow I just want what's mines, that's only natural Large estates, cherry wood floors with marble statues I see it in my dreams, so I know it's coming for me n***as tryna block my shine, trust me I ain't worried Back against the wall, I'm yelling, "f** 'em all" I came here to ball, right hand on my balls Left hand middle fingers up 'cause I don't give a f** You can tell from my attitude I'm getting bucks Strong kush in the cones got a n***a stuck I'm headed to the top, momma wish me luck Haters wish I fail, even though I will prevail That's just how I feel, but only time will surely tell Uh, It's a real n***a outing So I'mma wear what I wanna wear, Right Hustlin', I'm mad where I'm at dawg b**hes call me when the money there I pull up, pick up, now grip up Uhhh, and if you hustlin' Put your bands up, bands up And all my real G's stand up and what? Right And I hotbox the whip, I make it hard for her to breathe My pound game official, make a brawd don't wan' leave Got bags under my eyes from no sleep Got cash under my bed from '03, one love to my plug That n***a put me on my feet, it's still f** them n***as Tell 'em I'm rolling one deep, I ain't scared fool, whats beef? To a cattle who lost his peeps, us ghetto kids Keep more than a trick up our sleeve, I ain't doing that just for me This for my sisters and my C's Or men thats in these streets like A-wax, I ride D's I pray they keep their face on, my n***as with disbelief No disrespect girl, but 'til I'm gone it's M.O.B That chopper on that front seat like f** it, its M-O-me I got it out that modern Nike shoes, now no cleats They label me a beast, "you better than me?" "n***a, please." A rebel 'til I leave, and 'til I leave, its J-E-T, out Uh, It's a real n***a outing So I'mma wear what I wanna wear, Right Hustlin', I'm mad where I'm at dawg b**hes call me when the money there I pull up, pick up, now grip up Uhhh, and if you hustlin' Put your bands up, bands up And all my real G's stand up and what? Riiight Right, two years ago I was chopping O's Now I get pile money to rock a show, the OG's like "Little pappa go" Fly to H-town just to hip hop a dose, oh, I'm too popular to be normal Die off that OG every night, fool, I'm immortal One time for my little bro, little doobies Just a few months and I smoke, and everything will be Gucci Kushed God, you looking at a new breed My N.O. n***as will k** for me like I'm Drew Breeze Hustler, slash, author, see that a rotten apple just another dirty New Yorker Show stopper, hoes jock him, think he's awesome, go rock 'em Big Cuban looking flawless, so tell them non-believers they can hold my Johnson King of New York, n***a, Rugby Thompson