[Verse 1] Yea, when the speedometer reads 70 miles per hour A spoiler is deployed from the trunk Less wind resistance, more power You ain't sat in nothing like this once (niggaa) Fresh from the pages of Car & Driver To the possession of high pilots File it in my collection With the rest of my shit Up-to-date bill sheets, documented mileage Handbook in the console I know everything about it Got yo woman wet, she need goggles See me on the set, I'm the picture of survival Live in the flesh, dropping bombs on my rivals We the motherfucking JETS You just motherfucking clown shoes Borrowing ya big homie jewelry shooting virals Never wheeling them cars, just standing by them Not really knowing them broads, just standing by them No first class tickets, you just buy the stand-by ones I'm adding dollars, you admiring I'm Words With Friends whole time in-flight wireless Email full of condo prices Marble or granite, kitchen islands Home stylings
[Hook] Got a mill out the deal I'm still on the grind (JET life on these niggas yeah) Got 10 more coming just give me some time (JET life on them bitches yeah) Putting it all together got something in mind (JET life on them niggas yeah) Show them better than I can tell them they gon feel me
[Verse 2] Show them better than I can tell em they gon' feel me Niggas I came up with changing up say they gone kill me If they ever catch me slipping I don't give a fuck, sincerely I know they just emotional, they love me, they fear me They like my women, they see me steering, wish they was in it Jealousy, just feeding em negative energy I put my hands together praying for my friend-emies Only let paper chasers dwell in this vicinity Can't violate the JET code without penalty Even family get let go "Fredo, you killing me" I work hard, bloggers thinking that it's 10 of me Dropping record after record like them bitches slippery I like nice shit and I know how to get it Hustle dumbass, it's not rocket science or Quantum Physics Get on task fool, Trap til a trillion Wrote these raps in New Orleans and performed them in New Zealand Word to Pusha T and that's legal drug dealing "My God", what a feeling Italian engineering, Decepticon ceilings Push button disappearing when the drizzle clearing I'll probably be laid in the enclave, until then Jet miss in the kitchen grilling up steaks It'll smell like Ruth's Chris in a minute fool, you want a plate? The hero unsung when I'm done they'll say I'm great
[Hook]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
