[Intro: Curren$y]
Welcome to the Winner’s Circle
Tryna get this loot anyway, uh

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
You know I'm a factor
I can catch stunts on a John Deere tractor
You dorks are just a source for laughter
Spitta speed past ya, old school cruising
Like Ray Cash, I'm bumping my music
Caught up in Anita Baker's rapture
My mixtapes bump in Alaska
Not only out-rap ya, I outclass ya
Sitting in my living room high
Listening to Jamiroquai
I'm just an ordinary guy, but I dress extraordinarily fly
These n***as puss, look in their eyes
They're scared and we all know why
'Cause the presence of truth will expose a lie
Run Forest but you can't hide

[Verse 2: Trademark Da Skydiver]
FS Jets stay fly 'cause we gotta be
Got our hands in everything from fashion to property
Fly Society gettin' paper like Monopoly
My whole clique coppin' shit like we hit the lottery
Roll so many trees they swear to God we growing broccoli
Chain kinda heavy so it swing a little awkwardly
Frozen water watch [?] ice like hockey teams
Boutique jeans, a pair of aqua-green Ice Creams
Skywalker like a modern day Socrates
Flow go harder than the Spartans at Thermopylae
Game so [?] it's like the ocean's on top of me
[?] planes taking off, fly with us, follow me
Big vacation at forty thousand feet
If you can't make it just look towards the sky for me
Street Wiz and Roddy will be gliding on the side of me
With Spitta in the pilot seat, we out of here obviously
[Verse 3: Young Roddy]
The 650's straight but it don't have enough space for me
A hundred grand ain't cake to me
Risk my own life, they ain't kick pushed, skate for me
Tired of [?], she gon' pray for me
And a model bitch cool but no way for me
Love money and pussy, the pen was no place for me
For many years a shoe box played a safe for me
Kept a high price, lower the [?] case for me
I always dreams that God open them gates for me
They ain't boss up and ride on the interstate for me
And now it's no days off and no breaks for me
Smooth as I wanna be, baby, ain't no trace on me
And that's a smooth buck sixty like eight twenties
How I get addicted to Polos and Bape hoodies
Bitch n***as can't relate to me
And that's money in the bank to me

[Verse 4: Street Wiz]
Yeah, land of the fly, why ask why?
How them FS Jets tend to stay so fresh
To death with it, the cash on deck
When I master the success I add on digits
See me on a lyrical incline
I burn a hole through the notebook how I'm writing to get mine
That's two hustles wrapped up in one
I doubled it up to triple the fund, yeah
Riddle the grind the heat of the sun
[?] the hottest degrees
Yeah, [?] I'm on a seasonal run
Coast to coast, the high life floats my boat
I fly [?] with the golden rope
Jet glide through the sky with a massive glow
Shine brighter than the stars all across the globe
It'sj FS