Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song #jetsgo, artist - Curren$y.
Date of issue: 27.06.2011
Song language: English
#jetsgo |
Yeah. |
Ain’t nothin' to the next life. |
Roll somethin' up. |
Show of it. |
Uh, |
Never will it stop. |
Crate motors with triple digit blocks. |
You wan' race? |
I’ll leave you by a couple blocks. |
Blow the doors off |
Break the mu’erfuckin' locks. |
Nigga you know my steez. |
Spit it and ready. |
Pedal foot heavy, |
You know I speed |
Minus the bus and Keanu Reeves |
Twistin' them Fern Gully trees. |
Bitch breathe. |
Yo man smokin' good, |
I’m smokin' great. |
Thc, Tony the Tiger certified these flakes. |
Most yo helago green. |
Just scored that Ferrari |
But I still got the Lamborghini dreams. |
Confeti fall from the ceiling to the floor. |
The Jets step through the door, |
Issue them awards. |
Yo hoes hide from me Tight tissue to their drawers. |
You mad, upset |
Me and your girl just supped on the set |
Playin' Black Ops |
Let her drive my Chevy to the corner store. |
Rockin' Adidas flip-flops and some jcrew, |
Argyle socks. |
Now watch them speed bumps, |
Don’t let 'em fuck my rims up. |
Maybe we’ll stick witchu. |
But you on the team offical. |
But Jet misses never tell a Jet business. |
That’s how we do it big enough for us to live in it. |
Them other fools playin' with it. |
But I’m rhymin' sayin' they did it. |
Shame on them niggas |
You could come through the set |
But never bring 'em witcha. |
Yeah doe, |
The ver flow, |
Best smoke. |
Collectin' dough |
And here another Jet go. |
In the trill, no The Jets go, |
We Jets doe. |
Snatch yo bitches |
Bring 'em everywhere you can’t go. |
Yeah doe, |
Pound-sign Jets go. |
Nigga, yeah doe, |
Pound-sign Jets go. |
Bitch, yeah doe, |
Pound-sign Jets go. |
Collectin' dough |
And here another Jet go. |
Yo watch us wan' fuck mad bitches |
For all the days I never |
On set and thought I always had 'em |
No, but now they look better |
And quicker to beat down for whatever. |
Like me, hun, her homegirl together. |
Changin' the weather |
By chopper the sesner propellers. |
We landed on the water. |
The game that I taught her |
Got her showin' me the Louie |
That these duck niggas bought her. |
It’s a game to us We just hangin' for. |
Watch you swipe your credit card |
On dispensary pie jaws. |
I’m laid up, |
Callin' the front desk |
Tell 'em to send the maid up. |
While we play the terrace and blaze up. |
These detailed lyrics is far too intricate to be made up. |
Not pimpin' |
What you gave her was a inch |
She took her foot and kicked you in the ass with it. |
The famous story of Mike Tyson and Robin Givens. |
The biggest niggas get beat senseless by lil women. |
Look, it’s Sam Rothstein he gave his whole world a ginger. |
Even these bosses be slippin' |
I catch that. |
Try to be more flawless with it. |
Calculated king of the city |
Christopher Walken with it. |
I admire his empire |
As did Biggie. |
Machine Gun Funk outta the Bose. |
Bubble Kush and Hindu Skunk previously rolled. |
You know the game chump yo chick chose? |
Better luck next time, Captain Saver. |
Jets, drugs, and paper. |
S**, book, cars, and vacations. |