Released: April 21, 2009
Songwriter: Curren$y
Producer: MonstaBeatz
[Hook]
They look up to the jets nigga where haven't we been yet..
Fuck boys wondering if they bitch next
Bitches know the planes got it
No dope boy, I'm in the kitchen with crack tracks
Cooking up another batch
Motherfucker you know..
[Verse 1 - Curren$Y]
Brazilian bitches rolling my green leaves
Laying wit they clothes off
Mahfucka im spitta, proved to niggas I wasn't a quitta
They thought it was over until the Jets took over
Act like you dont see it pimpin look up we cloud surf
Homie you can have the streets the sky is my turf
My work done doubled over the summer you in trouble
Cuz the labels know I'm sure to do my numbers
The checks get cut like chef sliced cucumbers
Rocked first season BBC to the season opener
Half time we probably wit the club owners
It ain't enough room in this city
About to land planes on some niggas houses yes
Homie come up out it this is our shit
Ask your girl who she rep she say jets
And in the steps of Michael Jordan
I won't claim to be the best
I just let my work speak for itself
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
Bitches know the planes got it
Had it in the back so long I forgot about it
Club couch with a purple cloud around it
Bitches crowd around it I just lay back on my shy shit
Me and Young Roddy on our high shit
We don't know the difference between yo bitch or our bitch
But it was clear when your bitch got in my whip
Hot Spitta my music the soundtrack to the life every rich nigga
Niggas familiar with Recaro interior and rear mounted engines
My addiction to luxury livin is serious
Recording in a padded room my flow is delirious
[Hook]
They look up to the jets nigga where haven't we been yet..
Fuck boys wondering if they bitch next
Bitches know the planes got it
No dope boy, I'm in the kitchen with crack tracks
Cooking up another batch
Motherfucker you know..
[Verse 1 - Curren$Y]
Brazilian bitches rolling my green leaves
Laying wit they clothes off
Mahfucka im spitta, proved to niggas I wasn't a quitta
They thought it was over until the Jets took over
Act like you dont see it pimpin look up we cloud surf
Homie you can have the streets the sky is my turf
My work done doubled over the summer you in trouble
Cuz the labels know I'm sure to do my numbers
The checks get cut like chef sliced cucumbers
Rocked first season BBC to the season opener
Half time we probably wit the club owners
It ain't enough room in this city
About to land planes on some niggas houses yes
Homie come up out it this is our shit
Ask your girl who she rep she say jets
And in the steps of Michael Jordan
I won't claim to be the best
I just let my work speak for itself
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
Bitches know the planes got it
Had it in the back so long I forgot about it
Club couch with a purple cloud around it
Bitches crowd around it I just lay back on my shy shit
Me and Young Roddy on our high shit
We don't know the difference between yo bitch or our bitch
But it was clear when your bitch got in my whip
Hot Spitta my music the soundtrack to the life every rich nigga
Niggas familiar with Recaro interior and rear mounted engines
My addiction to luxury livin is serious
Recording in a padded room my flow is delirious
[Hook]