[Intro:] (Yawns) Long night, Think I gave my last hundred (To the fuckin' valet) Good evening Mr. Jackson I mean good morning, shit Dang
[Verse 1:] Uhh, Number fo' jordan soles to the flo' Steppin through the elevator door, Select a level that I wanna be on One push of a button be gone Doors open in the living room of my home, Penthouse I own I got it on my own When I'm gone engrave That phrase on my tombstone Nigga I'm in the zone, Like the 1-3-1 Lookin' down on the super dome gettin super doam New Orleans I roam I love where I'm from They know where I started they know how far I've come If I said I'm a do it you could consider it done My track record will prove it, I showed you for seven months Mixtape after mixtape all was solid Google my name and you could read all about it No longer No limit but a nigga still bout it No longer Cash Money still got fat pockets
[Chorus:] Uhh, this is elevator music All we do is ride around and get high too it [x2] All we do is ride around and get high too it That's why we call it the elevator music (Look up it's the jets nigga) Cause all we do is ride around And get high to it (Where haven't we been yet)
[Verse 2:] Uhh, a yessir I got my lazy eyes On that prize dime right there I pull up the coup It's like a pull out a chair Because the girl broke a smile and just sat there, Yeah shit happen like that all the time I'm used to it I just take it in strides Split another, keep movin Tie loose ends, Burn a couple of frees Chop fan business Burn a pound of haze Moves get made mo funds to raid Niggas wanna get paid, get high, get laid And repeat those steps And that order everyday My name in these streets My name is my name That shit that I say to remind you niggas Even if you don't see me I'm around you niggas I pound these bitches Dumbfound these critics Just spittin' the shit that I'm really livin' Spitta
[Chorus]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
