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Correct #jetsgo Lyrics
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Correct #jetsgo
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Yea, yea, yea Ain't nothing, to the next life Fool ain't nothing changed Roll something up mama We fucked up 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 bus and Keanu Reeves Twistin them FernGully 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 wit it, blind rhyming saying they did it Shame on them niggas, you can come through the set But never bring em withcha Yea though, the Vet flow, Best smoke Collecting dough, adhering to the Jet Code And the Trill know the Jets cold, Jets dope Snatch your bitches, bring em everywhere you can't go Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO Nigga, Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO Bitch, Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO Collecting dough, adhering to 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 homegirl together Changing the weather, by 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 Its 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 Rothstein, he gave his whole world to Ginger Even these bosses be slippin, I catch that Try to be more flawless wit it, calculated king of the city Christopher Walken wit it, I admire his Empire, as did Biggie Machine Gun Funk, out of the Bowls Bubba Kush & Hindu Skunk previously rolled You know the game chump, your chick chose Better luck next time Captain Save a Jets, Drugs, and Paper Sex, sport cars and vacations Eauh
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