| Shit was all good while it lasted
|
| But I can’t keep on? |
| flowing?
|
| As long as the fiends keep on itchin'
|
| Nigga, the grams keep on sellin'
|
| (That's right!)
|
| Bottom of the roost
|
| From the heart of North Philly
|
| To the top of Hollywood
|
| Model bitches, Cali-good
|
| I got something that they need
|
| That they want
|
| I’m the supplier, shorty
|
| Low numbers on them pretty bitches
|
| And it’s FIRE!
|
| Ghetto be my prior
|
| I be the one that they admire
|
| Home of the flier
|
| I gotta become a retire
|
| It’s a rap!
|
| I got it from here
|
| Yes I solemnly swear
|
| This is a global introduction, a hottest premiere
|
| Been the fuzziest year
|
| Staring out of my rear
|
| Fuck the pussy police!
|
| We got shotties to air
|
| Never dead body, a pair
|
| Paid a pussies a visit
|
| Never mind being tense
|
| Never fuck a statistic
|
| Never disappearance, and nobody know why he did it
|
| It’s just the code of this shit
|
| And we live it
|
| Curren$y kick it
|
| (Uh kick it)
|
| Yeah!
|
| One of the masters of the drug flow
|
| Anti-club dress code
|
| I just ignore those
|
| Narnia lions, different dimensions in my wardrobe
|
| Bankin' on the outside of the box like a barcode. |
| (Sail on!)
|
| Like a seven-foot sinna
|
| Spitta don’t gotta cross ova
|
| I just stay in the lane
|
| Show off dunks and hang
|
| From my goals obtained
|
| Planes boarded
|
| So I was already soarin'
|
| You smell it in my clothes
|
| Mixed with cologne by Ralph Lauren
|
| Spitta missin'
|
| You lookin' for him?
|
| Take a number nigga
|
| Never home
|
| Gotta call me on the yacht
|
| Floatin' out
|
| Bottles poppin' before I left the dock
|
| Who is that?
|
| In the Vinny Jack?
|
| Bumpin' super cat?
|
| XJ 12
|
| Soft top, retractable shell
|
| Parking near the boat launch in Paris
|
| Spending french bread
|
| Nigga croissants
|
| I got a flow that you can sail on
|
| Yeah!
|
| Sail on, Julia! |
| (Yea, yep. They look up to jets nigga, now what they doin?)
|
| Without the fears of ghosts. |
| (Wondering if they-)
|
| Sail on, Julia! |
| (Crookin' their necks and they lookin' up to the JETS.)
|
| Without the fears of ghosts. |
| (From the mansion to the yacht deck.)
|
| (Uh)
|
| Spitta is chillin'
|
| Jeans, paper, denim
|
| Milk and Oreos with the double stuffed filling
|
| On the internet
|
| Ordering another engine
|
| For the lavender Chevy
|
| With the suede gray innards
|
| Seen niggas go insane trying to get it
|
| The thought process of a first place winna
|
| JETS nigga!
|
| We enter the dragon, got
|
| Bruce Lee in the go-yard
|
| My lethal kicks cause damage
|
| Vaca. |
| Puff Sour Diesel in the hammy
|
| They hated on it
|
| Said that it could never happen
|
| I waited on em
|
| As my plan was bein mastered
|
| Have patience cause the best is the last laughin'
|
| Slashing, dancing, through my defenders
|
| No look passin'
|
| Bitches in the rapture love my rappin' with a passion
|
| And I’m
|
| New Orleans fliest
|
| Do rewind this
|
| The JETS get the highest
|
| (Uh)
|
| Sail on, Julia!
|
| Without the fears of ghosts
|
| Sail on, Julia!
|
| Without the fears of ghosts |