Justin Smith - What It Look Like lyrics

[Intro: Wale] We blessed to be here It's a blessing for you to be here with us MMG sh**, Jet Life, BOA, f** y'all What it look like My n***as fly n***as, this is Jet Life, yeah! For the occasion, paper planes [Hook: Wale] Look, what it look like My n***as fly n***as, this is Jet Life, yeah! Look, now roll my J tight Ha! You know what they like, yeah! [Verse 1: Wale] Paris SB's make these n***as catch seizures Foam game sh**ting on Irish Springs and Lever Ha! I'm more cleaver, clever Whether any weather, nobody doing it better Me and Spitta, Gucci bucket I'm Gilligan Ain't no Skipper but all my b**hes is Ginger hair My real estate sweet, yeah ginger bread Probably seen meaner bars probably in the feds Double M G forever though Money got me pulling strings, I got that Geppetto dough Always in them better clothes, I be with them better hoes No bullsh**, every shy b**h can get a rose Meaning aroused, I'm sorry I'm not too good with vowels I got a thousand b**hes, I'm not too good with vows We in Spitta Ferrari, brand new Tiffanys on me Don't f** with PBS, but man, I'm addicted to Barney's That's G sh**, I be bumping Fiend sh** And I'm on a roll, you would think they giving me a X Wordplay like a mothaf**a I'm Durant at the Rucker, your woman's a perfect jumper Wetter than a swish and I never miss Get her out her delicates and I ain't gotta tell her sh** Put it on whatever b**h, me and Spitta high as sh** Rex Ryan on these hoes, Jet Life forever b**h [Hook] [Verse 2: Curren$y] The engine in back of my car I'm clearly in a different tax bracket now, dog Mainstream cheese but I ain't acting like y'all Rapping that gabbage, attracting maggots I'm in Dulles waiting on luggage, luxury baggage Four door carriage with the V8 S badges I'm in the mirror of the Panamera Looking at them haters crammed in the Dodge Stratus Can't keep up, get your liters in order 4.8, interior custom, leather suede borders Not mine, I'm with Wale, I'm just a tourist on the set Looking for dangerously hot b**hes and safe s** I get mine and I bounce like a bad check You smell the ounce, I ain't even in ya house yet We smoke loud, might have to get your ears checked out After your hoes leave the Jets' hangout Them lames ain't even know the newest planes came out But I'm in every real n***a Cutla** in the parking lot of the Wing Stop bumping So f** it, I'm platinum in the streets I never gave a f** and that's what they love She just wanna f**, homie just wanna hug Rapping roulette, this life is a drug And baby girl can't get enough, fill her up [Hook]