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