[Intro: Curren$y (Sammy Adams)]
Yeah (Adams)
(Yeah) Fly Jets Over Boston
Yeah oh
We not playing with 'em

[Verse 1: Sammy Adams]
White picket fence not me I'm on the top floor
Roof top city spot looking over all yours (I see ya)
Chillin' with a crush I don't really have time for
I'm the 3 white keys in C, you're a minor
Knew my shit bang when my music hit the highways
Found out that hard work pays off like Fridays
And, plenty of people do this our age
But don't seem to be blowin' like Penelope and Johnny's
Sorry, sound so big headed
I'm just flowin' no clue where this clouds headed (no way, no clue)
Never been addicted to the fame, no star fetish
You worried 'bout yours, but we count all of this, uh

[Hook: Curren$y]
All we gon' do is spit that reals
So if you fake then don't come round here
Oh you thought that this was your year?
There's the door get the fuck outta here
I'm not playin, I'm just sayin
I'm not playin, I'm just sayin
I'm not playin, I'm just sayin
I'm not playin
[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Uh, and when it all come down to it
The homie Spitta do his thing you gotta give it to him
Refer in 3rd person tell myself about my music
You got them screen door lyrics, we can see through 'em
You and your team don't get it how you say you doin'
You just tryna keep the crowd moving lying to 'em
Disrespecting the game and gettin' paid for it
Lost sight of what you first got in the game for
I seen it all from my stadium seat chair
Number 1 rolled OG brand new
Old sneaks man what you mean?
It's like club life shoppin' in a time machine
Kinda light headed in my heavy Chevy
Talkin' to my light skinned red bone on my blackberry
Headed wherever I haven't been already
Fuck all else jets over Everett

[Hook: Curren$y]
All we gon' do is spit that reals
So if you fake then don't come round here
Oh you thought that this was your year?
Here's the door get the fuck outta here
I'm not playin, I'm just sayin
I'm not playin, I'm just sayin
I'm not playin, I'm just sayin (straight up)
Word to Sam, fool
Roll me another one