The Futuristiks - Showroom lyrics

[Intro] Checkered flag type sh** [Verse 1] When the speedometer reads 70 miles per hour A spoiler is deployed from the trunk Less wind resistance, more power You ain't sat in nothing like this once, n***a Fresh from the pages of Car and Driver to the possession of high pilots File it in my collection with the rest of my sh** Up-to-date bill sheets, documented mileage Handbook in the console I know everything about it Got your woman wet, she need goggles See me on the set, I'm the picture of survival Live in the flesh, dropping bombs on my rivals We the mothaf**in' Jets, you just mothaf**in' clown shoes Borrowing ya big homie j**elry shooting virals Never wheeling them cars, just standing by 'em Not really knowing them broads, just standing by 'em No first cla** tickets, you just buy the stand-by ones I'm adding dollars, you admiring I'm Words with Friends whole time in-flight wireless Email full of condo prices Marble or granite, kitchen islands, home stylings [Hook] Got a mill out the deal, I'm still on the grind Got ten more coming just give me some time Putting it all together, got something in mind Show 'em better than I can tell 'em, they gon' feel me [Verse 2] Show 'em better than I can tell 'em, they gon' feel me n***as I came up with changing up say they gon' k** me If they ever catch me slipping, I don't give a f**, sincerely I know they just emotional, they love me, they fear me They like my women, they see me steering, wish they was in it Jealousy, just feeding 'em negative energy I put my hands together praying for my friend-emies Only let paper chasers dwell in this vicinity Can't violate the Jet code without penalty Even family get let go "Fredo, you k**ing me" I work hard, bloggers thinking that it's ten of me Dropping record after record like them b**hes slippery I like nice sh** and I know how to get it Hustle dumba**, it's not rocket science or Quantum Physics Get on task fool, trap 'til a trillion Wrote these raps in New Orleans and performed 'em in New Zealand Word to Pusha T and that's legal drug dealing My God, what a feeling Italian engineering, Decepticon ceilings Push bu*ton disappearing when the drizzle clearing I'll probably be laid in the enclave, until then Jet miss in the kitchen grilling up steaks It'll smell like Ruth's Chris in a minute fool, you want a plate? The hero unsung when I'm done they'll say I'm great [Hook]