Released: April 21, 2009
Songwriter: Curren$y
Producer: MonstaBeatz
[Intro]
(Yawns)
Long night
Think I gave my last hundred to the fuckin' valet, damn
Good evening Mr. Jackson
I mean good morning, shit
Dang
[Verse 1]
Number four Jordan soles to the floor, steppin' through the elevator door
Select a level that I wanna be on, one push of a button be gone
Doors open in the living room of my home
Penthouse I own, I got it on my own
When I'm gone engrave that phrase on my tombstone
Nigga I'm in the zone, like the 1-3-1
Lookin' down on the super dome gettin super dome
New Orleans I roam, I love where I'm from
They know where I started they know how far I've come
If I said I'mma do it you could consider it done
My track record approve it I showed you for seven months
Mixtape after mixtape all was solid
Google my name and you could read all about it
No longer No Limit but a nigga still Bout It
No longer Cash Money still got fat pockets
[Hook]
Uhh, this is elevator music
All we do is ride around and get high too it (x2)
All we do is ride around and get high too it
That's why we call it the elevator music (Look up it's the jets nigga)
This is elevator music
Cause all we do is ride around
And get high to it (Where haven't we been yet)
[Verse 2]
Uhh, a yessir
I got my lazy eyes on that prize dime right there
I pull up the coupe, it's like a pull out a chair
Because the girl broke a smile and just sat there
Yeah shit happen like that all the time, I'm used to it
I just take it in stride, split another, keep movin
Tie loose ends, burn a couple of frees
Chop fan business, burn a pound of haze
Moves get made, more funds to raise
Niggas wanna get paid, get high, get laid
And repeat those steps in that order everyday
My name in these streets, my name is my name
That shit that I say to remind you niggas
Even if you don't see me I'm around you niggas
I pound these bitches, dumbfound these critics
Just spittin' the shit that I'm really livin'
Spitta
[Hook]
(Yawns)
Long night
Think I gave my last hundred to the fuckin' valet, damn
Good evening Mr. Jackson
I mean good morning, shit
Dang
[Verse 1]
Number four Jordan soles to the floor, steppin' through the elevator door
Select a level that I wanna be on, one push of a button be gone
Doors open in the living room of my home
Penthouse I own, I got it on my own
When I'm gone engrave that phrase on my tombstone
Nigga I'm in the zone, like the 1-3-1
Lookin' down on the super dome gettin super dome
New Orleans I roam, I love where I'm from
They know where I started they know how far I've come
If I said I'mma do it you could consider it done
My track record approve it I showed you for seven months
Mixtape after mixtape all was solid
Google my name and you could read all about it
No longer No Limit but a nigga still Bout It
No longer Cash Money still got fat pockets
[Hook]
Uhh, this is elevator music
All we do is ride around and get high too it (x2)
All we do is ride around and get high too it
That's why we call it the elevator music (Look up it's the jets nigga)
This is elevator music
Cause all we do is ride around
And get high to it (Where haven't we been yet)
[Verse 2]
Uhh, a yessir
I got my lazy eyes on that prize dime right there
I pull up the coupe, it's like a pull out a chair
Because the girl broke a smile and just sat there
Yeah shit happen like that all the time, I'm used to it
I just take it in stride, split another, keep movin
Tie loose ends, burn a couple of frees
Chop fan business, burn a pound of haze
Moves get made, more funds to raise
Niggas wanna get paid, get high, get laid
And repeat those steps in that order everyday
My name in these streets, my name is my name
That shit that I say to remind you niggas
Even if you don't see me I'm around you niggas
I pound these bitches, dumbfound these critics
Just spittin' the shit that I'm really livin'
Spitta
[Hook]