[Verse 1 - Curren$y] It's the Planes and the Taylor Gang And I'm f**ing with the chronic cause the chronic give me dopeness Center of the camera focus Once the car service doors open I'm with a chick you only seen on magazine covers posing I really know this b**h I won't tell you I got it until I could show you it I'm not gon' tell you about it until I go through it Formula One car, code word for solo whip f** you, f** you, f** you I'm cool Weed lit Lights flipped up on the Porsche The same model Tony escaped from the club with When them haters tried to knock him off That's cold Destroyer of the track I am Spitta Destro You in the club line obeying the dress code I drive by b**hes making googley eyes Google me Ma I do that music so beautifully, huh Believe that Jets n***a retweet that [Refrain: Curren$y] And In the Middle we stay calm we just drop bombs In the Middle we stay calm we just drop we just drop In the Middle we stay calm we just drop bombs In the Middle we stay calm we just drop we just drop [Verse 2 - Wiz] Jets, Taylor Gang You know the slang Bad b**hes feeding me champagne Show up smelling like weed on the plane People cut they eyes but they don't say sh** Rep Taylor Gang plus the Planes b**h Polo Socks Bad b**hes dig em cause they know the flow so hot They be at my shows hoping one day they can meet us And maybe we'll smoke I ain't on no Hollywood sh** You s**y and know how to handle your weed You probably cook b**h Bong rips send us to Hong Kong trips My life is a movie stick to the script Can tell that it's quality before its lit He is I and I am him Some b**hes a lot of weed and gin Tattoos cover half my skin Hoes scream Taylor Gang out they roof Plus they love the Jets music Lemme hear it