Tonalité : G minor
Verse 1
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Checkered
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flag type shit
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Yea, when the speedometer
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E
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reads 70 miles per hour
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A spoiler is deployed from the trunk
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Less wind resistance, more power
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You ain't sat in nothing like
B
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this once (niggaa)
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Fresh from the pages of Car & Driver
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To the possession of high pilots
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File it in my collection
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With the rest of my shit
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Up- to- date bill sheets,
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documented mileage
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Handbook in the console
I know everything about it
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Got yo woman wet, she need goggles
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See me on the set,
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I'm the picture of survival
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Live in the flesh,
dropping bombs on my rivals
We the motherfucking JETS
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You just motherfucking
clown shoes
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Borrowing ya big homie
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jewelry shooting virals
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Never wheeling them cars,
just standing by them
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Not really knowing them broad s,
B
just standing by them
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No first class tickets,
B
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you just buy the stand- by ones
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I'm adding dollars, you admiring
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I'm Words With Friends whole
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B
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time in- flight wireless
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Email full of condo prices
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Marble or granite,
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kitchen islands
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Got a mill out the deal I'm
still on the grind
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(JET life on these niggas yeah)
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Got 10 more coming just
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give me some time
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(JET life on them bitches yeah)
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Putting it all together got
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something in mind
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(JET life on them niggas yeah)
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Show them better than I can
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tell them they gon feel me
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Show them better than I can tell
E
em they gon' feel me
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Niggas I came up with changing
E
up say they gone kill me
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If they ever catch me slipping
E
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E
I dont give a fuck, sincerely
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I know they just emotional,
E
they love me, they fear me
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They like my women, they see me steering,
wish they was in it
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Jealousy, just feeding em negative energy
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I put my hands together praying
for my friend- emies
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Only let paper chasers dwell
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in this vicinity
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Can't violate the JET
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code without penalty
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Even family get let go
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"Fredo, you killing me"
I work hard, bloggers thinking
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that it's 10 of me
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Dropping record after record
like them bitches slippery
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I like nice shit and I know how to get it
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Hustle dumbass,
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it's not rocket science or Quantum Physics
Get on task fool, Trap til a trillion
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Wrote these raps in New Orleans and performed
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them in New Zealand
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Word to Pusha T and that's
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legal drug dealing
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"My God", what a feeling
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Engineering
, Decepticon ceilings
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Push button disappearing
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when the drizzle clearing
I'll probably be laid in the enclave,
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until then
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Jet miss in the kitchen grilling up steaks
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It'll smell like Ruth's Chris in a minute fool,
you want a plate?
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The hero unsung when I'm done they'll say I'm great
Outro 1
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AccordeurE A D G B E
AccordsC#m G#m E B
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