Yeah Yeah Jets n***a where haven't we been yet Shout out to the Hot Boys Kid Legend Motherf**er you know Spitta speeding '84 Monte Carlo Lamborghini green dipped n***a you seen it at the red light Your b**h was on the pa**enger side cheesing You was mad, I saw your face Now there's drama in your car like a Gangsta Grillz tape I just lean and mash on the gas pedal Flicking ash from the zig-zag Streetlights dance in my watch bezel My locs too blacked out Cause I don't see nobody else on my level Made it to the top of the world and I wanted company I invited another n***as girl to smoke a blunt with me You didn't bring your cleats to the track meet You can't run with me I'm not fronting G Roll my spot comfortably There's a place for you on the charts somewhere under me The labels is slumbering The radio's putting out garbage quick as its coming in The listeners is suffering There's a handful of good rappers But not enough of them That break out of the cookie cutter mold they try to stuff us in How do I show the real that I had enough of them I dedicated the last seven moths to them Yeah Jets n***a F I N . . . Roll the curtains Yeah