Текст песни
Fly shit, uh
No matter the coast LA to New York I'ma hustle
Maneuver through traffic or jumping over turnbuckles
Three days worth of clothes in a duffel
Pack shows flex without showing a muscle
You and your crew just a bag full of ruffles
When it's time to eat, guess who we are about to run through
Suffering defeat to me is what it all comes to
Little niggas in headlock's screaming Uncle
Had to let him breathe for a minute
Then thought, fuck that
Start squeezing, evil laugh, I'm a villain
Do 110 during a light scrimmage
Spend more time higher than flight attendants
Pressure on my shoulder, but I like fitness
Got the Midas touch and she's a eye witness
I was born for the league
Brought a cannon and equipped with speed
High up got the vision what a pigeon see
Eating lobster and steak once the lemon squeeze
Mixing ghetto with the rich nigga tendencies
64 sit right outside next to a new Rose
Velour suits and timb boots like Wu ghost
Prime dine at Mastro's in a bathrobe
Spilling cups of Kool-Aid as I do a toast
It's time I let you witness a star
Took the tent off my car
Add another plate, still lifting the bar
Real rap, though, I could've took the mumble route
But real lyrics got me chilling up at Dumbo house
Trying to smoke, the waiter hating saying put it out
Replying no as the smoke flow out my mouth