[Intro]
(Jet Files, fool) End of the Block production
(Jet Files, fool) That’s what this is
(Them bomb-ass tapes) Jets, fool
Spitta n***a from the the the Jets (Fool, I drop them bomb-ass tapes)
And I so love my set (Fool, I drop them bomb-ass tapes)
Where haven't we been yet (Fool, I drop them bomb-ass tapes)
On the way the next check (Jet Files)
The, the, the Jets
And I so love my set (Fool, I drop them bomb-ass tapes, n***a)

[Verse 1]
Yeah, I don't rap on beats, I spit pictures, n***a
Spit that real, and kill these fictitious n***as
Ya'll don't want any part of Spit Vicious, n***a
Simple beats, complex lyrics; I give it to ya
Just as an onion has layers to it
Different phases to my music, let me take you through 'em
I ain't a killer, but the beat made me do it
Eliminate the fake to see the loot flip, Jet's high
We lookin' down on the top
No matter what the time it's four-twenty on my clock
Won't let you n***as disgrace hip-hop on my watch, not hardly
It ain't that type of party fool, I'm sorry
Parker Brothers style, how I play these bitches
Suffer from smoke inhalation, got they face all in a jet engine
Tryna get a wiff, no, smell somethin' I wrote in my notebook
And overdose, because it's too dope
[Chorus]
(And I'm...yeah)
On the way to the next cheque, it's
Spitta, n***a, from the the, the Jets and
It's not a secret I so love my set
But where haven't we been yet? (And I'm, yeah)
On the way to the next cheque, it's
Spitta n***a from the, the, the Jets, and
It's not a secret I so love my set
And bitches no the planes (Got it)

[Verse 2]
Exercise for the mind, mixtapin' like a athlete in the gym
N***a I'm trainin'
My home-girl up in the hotel room waitin'
Didn't get down like that, we just started fuckin' lately
Rare shit, so crazy, straight up
Straight jacket action baby, but wait up
I never let it get me down, 'cause my spirit's rasin'
To the point I'm grounded but steady levitatin'
Most n***as was sleep, but they wakin' and bakin'
Finally catchin' up the music the Jets was makin'
Wack n***as gotcha gassed, smellin' like a station
My homey once told me, everybody ain't gonn' make it
Believe he was taken, 'cause truth was at the root of his statement
From the air to the pavement behind paper
From the air to the pavement behind paper
From the air to the pavement behind paper
[Chorus]
On the way to the next cheque, it's
Spitta, n***a, from the the, the Jets, and
It's not a secret I so love my set
But where haven't we been yet? (And I'm, yeah)
On the way to the next cheque, it's
Spitta n***a from the, the, the Jets, and
It's not a secret I so love my set
And bitches no the planes (Got it)

[Outro]
Got it
Huh
Jets Files, fool
I drop them bomb-ass tapes
N***a, I said
Fool, I drop them bomb-ass tapes
Jet Files, fool