Yeah, yeah, yeah, ain't nothing to the next life
Fool, ain't nothing changed
Roll something up, mama, we fucked
Make sure of it

Uh, never will it stop
Crate motors with Triple Digit Blocks
You wanna race, I'll leave you by a couple blocks
Blow the doors off, break the mothafuckin' locks

Nigga, you know my Steez'
Spitta Andretti, pedal foot heavy, you know I speed
Minus the busing, Keanu Reeves
Twistin' them Fern gully trees, bitch breathe

Your man smokin' good, I'm smoking great
T-H-C, Tony the Tiger certified these flakes
Murcielago green, just scored that Ferrari
But I still got them Lamborghini dreams

Confetti fall from the ceiling to the floor
The jets step through the door issue them awards
Your hoes hot for me type, tissue to their draws
You mad, upset, me and your girl just up on the set

Playin' black ops, let her drive my Chevy box to the corner store
Rockin' Adidas flip-flops, and some J-Crew
Argyle socks, now watch them speed bumps
Love don't fuck my rims up

Maybe we'll stick with you, put you on the team official
But Jet misses never tell a Jet business
That's how we do it big enough, for us to live in it
Them other fools playing with it, blind rhyming saying they did it

Shame on them niggas, you come through the set
But never bring them withcha

Yeah, though, the wet flow, best smoke
Collecting dough, adhering the jet code
And the thrill know the jet code, we jets though
Snatch your bitches, bring 'em everywhere you can't go

Yeah, doe pound sign Jetsgo
Nigga, yeah, doe pound sign Jetsgo
Bitch, yeah doe, pound sign Jetsgo
Collecting dough, adhering the jet code

Now I just wanna fuck mad bitches for all the days I never
On second thought, I always had 'em though
But now they look better and quicker to be down for whatever
Like me, her and her home girl together

Changing the weather, by the chop of the Cessna Propellers
We landed on the water, the game that I taught her
Got her showing me the Louie that these duck niggas bought her
It's a game to us, we just hang and fuck

While she swipe your credit cards on dispensary pot jars
I'm laid up, calling the front desk, tell them to send the maid up
While we play the terrace and blaze up
These detailed lyrics is far to intricate to be made up

Not pimping, what you gave her
Was an inch, she took her foot and kicked you in the ass with it
The famous story of Mike Tyson and Robbin Givens
The biggest niggas get beat senseless by little women

Look at Sam Raw-stein, he gave his whole world to Ginger
Even these bosses be slippin', I catch that
Try to be more flawless with it, Calculated king of the city
Christopher walkin' with it, I admire his empire, as did as Biggie

Machine Gun Fonk, out of the bowls
Bubble Kush and Hindu Skunk previously rolled
You know the game, 'Chump your chick chose'
Better luck next time, Captain, save her
Jets, drugs, and paper, sex, sport cars and vacations, yeah