[Intro: Curren$y]
Let me out right here, uh

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Inspiration was all within the crates waiting
For the homie to rediscover, reshape it
I maybe smoked a half a fatty while he made it
Crafted by the masters, the coupe ensues additional chapters
Honda Prelude, super-tuned fast one
Driven by a lady assassin scaling the walls of your mansion
You was just lamping, never imagining some shit like this could transpire
You had the juice but now its expired
The streets is tired, that work done been stepped on too many times
You tried to stretch it too far, you done crossed the line
Now your name is mud in the streets, the fiends won't buy
They walk on by, while I'm

[Chorus: Curren$y]
Cooler than a polar bear's toenails, aw hell
There he go again talking that shit that leave a sucka n***a
Going home without his bitch
Spitta, n***a, all about his scritch, got a plan to get rich

[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Come through smelling like a zip, flicking a 93 octane lit
I understand that some of the folks is buying regular gas
Some riding trophy cars, some was driving trash
Me, myself I'm top shelf high
Anything else would be uncivilised
Real OG shit is only to be recognised
That sucka shit is to be redirected, corrected, or be chastised
Don't kill yourself trying to live that Jet Life
Poof, quicker than a Uzi carbine
In my Ferrari dodging crossfire, trying not to be killed
By n***as from the other side, or the one time
That's how I survive, n***a I'm
[Chorus: Curren$y]
Cooler than a polar bear's toenails, aw hell
There he go again talking that shit that leave a sucka n***a
Going home without his—
Spitta, n***a, all about his scritch, got a plan to get rich
I'm cooler than a polar bear's toenails, awh hell
There he go again talking that shit that leave a sucka n***a
Going home without his bitch
Spitta, n***a, all about his scritch, got a plan to get rich

[Verse 3: Action Bronson]
They did him greasy, like brown bags of fried fish
Bring me your nose bitch, try this
Every lion needs a lioness
I admit I'm high as shit, I'm at peace with my environment
Chollo lowriders, ladies designed in the candy
Skulls and knives, fire, golden eyes
A Korean stock broker, shit, that was an old disguise
Split his wig, throw him to the pigs
Discuss murder over cured Italian deli meat
Jimmy shot Johnny in the park over a Jew broad
Facing the wheel, Frankie Vallie still playing though
I'm saying though
Why the Asian shooter always got blonde hair
You rock designer jeans, dawg, with the ass cut out
Exotic rap pants, I make the mac-10 tap dance
Shit