#JetsGo lyrics - Curren$y

Yea. yea..yea

Ain't nothing... to the next life

Fool ain't nothing changed

Roll something up mama

We fucked up

Make sure of it

Uhh, never will it stop

Crate motors with triple digit blocks

You wanna race I'll leave you by a couple blocks

Blow the doors off, break the mothafuckin' locks

Nigga you know my steez

Spitta Andretti, pedal foot heavy, you know I Speed

Minus the bus and Keanu Reeves

Twistin them FernGully trees, Bitch breathe

Your man smokin good, I'm smoking great

T-H-C, Tony the Tiger certified these flakes

Murcielago green, just scored that Ferrari

But I still got them Lamborghini dreams

Confetti fall from the ceiling to the floor

The Jets step through the door

Issue them awards

Your hoes hot for me type, tissue to their draws

You mad upset, Me and your girl just up on the set

Playin Black Ops, let her drive my Chevy-Box to the corner store

Rockin Adidas flip-flops, and some J-Crew

Argyle socks, now watch them speed bumps

Love don't fuck my rims up

Maybe we'll stick with you, put you on the team official

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 playing wit it, blind rhyming saying they did it

Shame on them niggas, you can come through the set

But never bring em withcha

Yea though, the Vet flow, Best smoke

Collecting dough, adhering to the Jet Code

And the Trill know the Jets cold, Jets dope

Snatch your bitches, bring em everywhere you can't go

Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO

Nigga, Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO

Bitch, Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO

Collecting dough, adhering to the Jet Code

Now I just wanna fuck mad bitches, for all the days I never

On second thought, I always had em though

But now they look better, and quicker to be down for whatever

Like me, her and her homegirl together

Changing the weather, by chop of the Cessna propellers

We landed on the water, the game that I taught her

Got her showing me the Louie that these duck niggas bought her

Its a game to us, we just hang and fuck

While she swipe your credit cards on dispensary pot jars

I'm laid up, calling the front desk, tell them to send the maid up

While we play the terrace and blaze up

These detailed lyrics is far to intricate to be made up

Not pimping, what you gave her

Was an inch, she took her foot and kicked you in the ass with it

The famous story of Mike Tyson and Robbin Givens

The biggest niggas get beat senseless by little women

Look at Sam Rothstein, he gave his whole world to Ginger

Even these bosses be slippin, I catch that

Try to be more flawless wit it, calculated king of the city

Christopher Walken wit it, I admire his Empire, as did Biggie

Machine Gun Funk, out of the Bowls

Bubba Kush & Hindu Skunk previously rolled

You know the game chump, your chick chose

Better luck next time Captain Save a

Jets, Drugs, and Paper

Sex, Sport Cars and Vacations

...eauh