Tonalité : G minor
Verse 1
Em
B
Em
Yea, yea, yea
B
Ain't nothing, to the next life
Em
Fool ain't nothing changed
B
Roll something up mama
Em
F#m
F
We fucked up
A
Bm
Make sure of it
Verse 2
Em
Uh, never will it stop
Crate motors with triple digit blocks
You wanna race I'll leave
Bm
you by a couple blocks
Em
Blow the doors off, break the
mothafuckin' locks
Nigga you know my steez
G
Spitta Andretti, pedal foot heavy,
you know I Speed
Bm
Minus the bus and Keanu Reeves
F#m
Twistin them FernGully trees,
A
Bitch breathe
B
Bm
Your man smokin good, I'm smoking great
T- H- C, Tony the Tiger
certified these flakes
Em
Murcielago green, just scored that Ferrari
Bm
But I still got them
Lamborghini dreams
Em
Confetti fall from the ceiling
to the floor
C
The Jets step through the door
Issue them awards
G
Your hoes hot for me type,
tissue to their draws
C
G
You mad upset,
F#m
Me and your girl just up on the set
Bm
Playin Black Ops,
let her drive my Chevy- Box to the corner store
Rockin Adidas flip- flops,
and some J- Crew
Em
Argyle socks,
now watch them speed bumps
Bm
Love don't fuck my rims up
Em
Maybe we'll stick with you, put
you on the team official
C
But Jet Misses never tell
Em
a Jet business
C
That's how we do it big enough
G
Bm
for us to live in it
Em
F#m
Them other fools playing wit it,
Bm
F#m
blind rhyming saying they did it
Bm
Shame on them niggas,
you can come through the set
But never bring em withcha
Verse 3
Em
Yea though, the Vet flow, Best smoke
Collecting dough,
F#m
Em
adhering to the Jet Code
Bm
And the Trill know the Jets cold,
Jets dope
Em
Snatch your bitches,
Verse 4
bring em everywhere you can't go
C
Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO
G
F#m
Nigga, Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO
B
Bitch, Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO
Bm
Collecting dough,
adhering to the Jet Code
Verse 5
Now I just wanna fuck mad bitches,
F#m
Em
for all the days I never
On second thought,
C
I always had em though
Bm
But now they look better,
Em
and quicker to be down for whatever
Like me,
her and her homegirl together
C
Changing the weather,
G
by chop of the Cessna propellers
C
We landed on the water,
F#m
the game that I taught her
Got her showing me the Louie that
these duck niggas bought her
Bm
It s a game to us,
we just hang and fuck
While she swipe your credit cards
on dispensary pot jars
Em
I'm laid up, calling the front desk,
Bm
tell them to send the maid up
F#m
While we play the terrace
Bm
and blaze up
Em
These detailed lyrics is far to intricate
C
to be made up
Not pimping, what you gave her
G
Bm
Was an inch, she took her foot and kicked
F#m
you in the ass with it
The famous story of Mike
Tyson and Robbin Givens
Bm
The biggest niggas get
F#m
beat senseless by little women
Bm
G
Look at Sam Rothstein,
B
he gave his whole world to Ginger
Bm
Even these bosses be slippin, I catch that
A
Bm
Try to be more flawless wit it,
B
calculated king of the city
Christopher Walken wit it,
Bm
Em
B
I admire his Empire, as did Biggie
Machine Gun Funk,
out of the Bowls
Em
Bubba Kush & Hindu Skunk
F#m
previously rolled
You know the game
F
chump, your chick chose
A
Better luck next time Captain Save a
Jets, Drugs, and Paper
Sex, sport cars and vacations
Eauh
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