[Intro]
Yeah
Yeah
Jets n***a where haven't we been yet
Shout out to the Hot Boys
Kid Legend
Motherfucker you know

[Verse]
Spitta speeding
'84 Monte Carlo Lamborghini green dipped
N***a you seen it at the red light
Your bitch was on the passenger side cheesing
You was mad, I saw your face
Now there's drama in your car like a Gangsta Grillz tape
I just lean and mash on the gas pedal
Flicking ash from the zig-zag
Streetlights dance in my watch bezel
My locs too blacked out
Cause I don't see nobody else on my level
Made it to the top of the world and I wanted company
I invited another n***as girl to smoke a blunt with me
You didn't bring your cleats to the track meet
You can't run with me
I'm not fronting G
Roll my spot comfortably
There's a place for you on the charts somewhere under me
The labels is slumbering
The radio's putting out garbage quick as it's coming in
The listeners is suffering
There's a handful of good rappers
But not enough of them
Who break out of the cookie cutter mold they try to stuff us in
How did I show the real that I had enough of them
I dedicated this past seven moths to them
Yeah
[Outro]
Jets n***a
F
I
N
.
.
.
Roll the curtains
Yeah