[Intro]
Yeah, Jet life
Jet set nothing less
[Verse 1: Trademark]
I'm talking oceans in the back, front reserved for Porsches
Highed up focused on my fortunes
A real G I'm tryna ball, I want it all fuck a portion
Money in my pocket, more stacks than a fortress
Up early every day I'm trying to flip I need more of it
Gotta get it now will I see tomorrow I ain't sure of it
Overdue it's 'bout that time I deserve a lick
I'm trying to see something slick I really came from nothing though
Still I stand tall pockets thick, fitted sitting low
Twisting with my chick out the manor in front it gettin' gold
She ain't a gold digger but love how daddy get this dough
Real nigga hear it in my words plus my actions show
Nothing less I'm a Jet so I'm sending threats
To these suckers hating on my name cause I'm next
Protected by the planes, JLR family crest
Mama fall back from them lames and fly with the best
[Hook]
Yeah, get paid, my nigga get paid
[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Never under estimate the other guys greed
Game given from a snake indeed, I still take heat
Keep the force what you stuck adhesive
Fuck with the real niggas see how we do it
Baby girl them your people
Well lose them dudes your home girl and them cool
We makin' moves like when throwback rap albums had interludes
We used to chill at the crib waiting for homie
To bring them instrumentals through
Mixtape rap your way to a million dollars I did it partner
Too much of a scholar to ever live in squalor
Scissors beats paper unless we talking 'bout them paper dollars
I'm in there like I live there
What took you so long baby girl I been here, tryna leave your man
He a square huh, I don't even know if it's fair ma
Fuck it though you living in the same world I'm in, dirty but that money make it spin
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Young Roddy]
I hustle hard 'til I'm dead or locked behind bars
I'm a Jet member way about a different set of laws
Roddy trap hard ain't no time for fucking off
It's a scary game but am I scared not at all
I'm hoping that this high don't ever come down and fall
Cause them days with no weed way tougher than them all
Still spitting these trill bars free of charge
And them niggas don't give a fuck, they cold hearted
That's cold blooded especially in New Orleans
Just trying to make it out this maze that I been lost in
I rep my set from the stage to the coffin
School of hard knock I learned to read between the margins
But real shit so many problems I deal with
And I thank God for Mary Jane, that good piff
Bet I won't quit stacking my bread flipping my chips
I double count my paper then I dip, Jets fool, I bet I do
[Hook]
compositores: Alex Washington, D Harleaux, Daryl Anthony Harleaux, J Fitch, John A Fitch, Roderick Brisco, Shante Franklin
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