Curren$y - 17.5 Cannons lyrics

[Verse 1: Curren$y] Jets n***a Yeah Jets n***a Uh Next they'll be dressing like me But back in the day they wasn't stressing like me Good thing I had the balls to boss up If not for that ain't no telling where I might be Ain't no telling who you might see No tint, got your girl in my pa**enger seat, wa**up Dropped her off to you With her fingertips and her lips smelling like weed n***a she been rolling it up Laced locks on my Jordan Ones Naw homie they ain't come like that Ya'll remember Mr. Spitta Mor. Month-After-Month (?) Don Cannon your n***a right back b**hes just fell through with the loud pack No cigars in my session my crew don't allow that wussup Yeah [Verse 2: Curren$y] Yeah Uh Paper planes, personals to the brain Help a n***a deal with the ills of the game The radio station playing favorites And I don't even turn the TV on Cause it ain't about the music artists making nowadays Its all about scripted realities from their home Fussing with their kids, fussing with their chicks Hundred thousand dollars on the line Run an obstacle course and eat a plate full of sh** Lose a hundred pounds, celebrate, get highed up Go to the sober house, lay it down I'm an artist get me the f** out of here (?) Two dope Caprice cla**ics Got suede interior in my slab b**h So be careful where you (?) your ask and talk zilla what up Yeah [Outro: DJ Don Cannon] Shout out to everybody supporting the Jets movement Don Cannon the money machine It's real special Curren$y, Smokee Robinson Roll up a doobie or something And oh yeah I don't let no projects go Without having one of my joints on it Ya dig?