Crate motors with triple digit blocks
You wanna race I'll leave
Blow the doors off, break the
Spitta Andretti, pedal foot heavy,
Minus the bus and Keanu Reeves
Twistin them FernGully trees,
Your man smokin good, I'm smoking great
Murcielago green, just scored that Ferrari
Confetti fall from the ceiling
The Jets step through the door
Your hoes hot for me type,
Me and your girl just up on the set
let her drive my Chevy- Box to the corner store
Rockin Adidas flip- flops,
now watch them speed bumps
Love don't fuck my rims up
Maybe we'll stick with you, put
But Jet Misses never tell
That's how we do it big enough
Them other fools playing wit it,
blind rhyming saying they did it
you can come through the set
But never bring em withcha
bring em everywhere you can't go
Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO
Nigga, Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO
Bitch, Yea Doe pound sign #JetsGO
Now I just wanna fuck mad bitches,
But now they look better,
and quicker to be down for whatever
her and her homegirl together
by chop of the Cessna propellers
the game that I taught her
Got her showing me the Louie that
these duck niggas bought her
While she swipe your credit cards
I'm laid up, calling the front desk,
tell them to send the maid up
While we play the terrace
These detailed lyrics is far to intricate
Not pimping, what you gave her
Was an inch, she took her foot and kicked
beat senseless by little women
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
Better luck next time Captain Save a
Sex, sport cars and vacations