Released: October 6, 2009
Songwriter: Curren$y
Producer: Christian Kennedy
[Hook]
And we gonn' burn an ounce to this
Gs up hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this
I ain't trippin', I got a pound of this
I get it to spend it, I don't got time to count this shit
Yeah
And we gonn' burn an ounce to this
Gs up hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this
I ain't trippin', I got a pound of this
I get it to spend it, I don't got time to count this shit
Yeah
[Verse]
Theme music quite fittin' cos my life is a movie
Bring ya bitch up to my roof, a barbecue and a jacuzzi
This is it
Standin' on the couch as every nigga and bitch that's around me glasses lift
They said we wouldn't do it but we did
Point proven
Muscle car collection, couple old ones couple new ones
Girls in all directions, couple fake ones couple true ones
Get confused in choosin' who from who so I misuse 'em
Run through like socks; one night then I'm out
I'll get another pair while I'm out
She doesn't listen for my horn, she wait to hear me flyin' over her house
Gulf-streams, Levi jeans, and Lamborghini dreams
Nothin' wedgin' in-between
Spitta rep for his team
JETS over everything
I'mma smoke a joint for Amalgam Digital
I already had the plane they fitted with the missiles though
Yeah
[Hook]
[Vere]
Belvedere vodka, lemonade, swimmin' in the same glass
Spitta keep it movin' like a NYC Easy-Pass
Though I blow it fast it's not easy cash
I work for it
Blood sweat tears, weed ashes in my shirt for it
And if I would of known then what I know
Years ago I would have been sittin' on nine-hundred and ninety-nine thou'
I grew fond of the dollar and its powers when I was a child
Hot Wheels, Match Box, cars, pretendin' to drive
Now I own the same whips in actual size
The essence of a dream when it is realised
I prophesized on my last tape, ya'll all lamed out
Didn't appreciate til eight more of them came out
Now I'm off the chain now
Turned the game out
When it's club night we bring the paper planes out
Call this here the gang out
I'm on the list pick my name out
[Hook]
And we gonn' burn an ounce to this
Gs up hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this
I ain't trippin', I got a pound of this
I get it to spend it, I don't got time to count this shit
Yeah
And we gonn' burn an ounce to this
Gs up hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this
I ain't trippin', I got a pound of this
I get it to spend it, I don't got time to count this shit
Yeah
[Verse]
Theme music quite fittin' cos my life is a movie
Bring ya bitch up to my roof, a barbecue and a jacuzzi
This is it
Standin' on the couch as every nigga and bitch that's around me glasses lift
They said we wouldn't do it but we did
Point proven
Muscle car collection, couple old ones couple new ones
Girls in all directions, couple fake ones couple true ones
Get confused in choosin' who from who so I misuse 'em
Run through like socks; one night then I'm out
I'll get another pair while I'm out
She doesn't listen for my horn, she wait to hear me flyin' over her house
Gulf-streams, Levi jeans, and Lamborghini dreams
Nothin' wedgin' in-between
Spitta rep for his team
JETS over everything
I'mma smoke a joint for Amalgam Digital
I already had the plane they fitted with the missiles though
Yeah
[Hook]
[Vere]
Belvedere vodka, lemonade, swimmin' in the same glass
Spitta keep it movin' like a NYC Easy-Pass
Though I blow it fast it's not easy cash
I work for it
Blood sweat tears, weed ashes in my shirt for it
And if I would of known then what I know
Years ago I would have been sittin' on nine-hundred and ninety-nine thou'
I grew fond of the dollar and its powers when I was a child
Hot Wheels, Match Box, cars, pretendin' to drive
Now I own the same whips in actual size
The essence of a dream when it is realised
I prophesized on my last tape, ya'll all lamed out
Didn't appreciate til eight more of them came out
Now I'm off the chain now
Turned the game out
When it's club night we bring the paper planes out
Call this here the gang out
I'm on the list pick my name out
[Hook]