Released: April 21, 2009
Featuring: Young Chris
Songwriter: Young Chris Curren$y
Producer: MonstaBeatz
[Verse 1: Young Chris]
Gunna!(Sail on!)
Shit was all good while it lasted, but I can't keep on sailing
As long as the fiends keep on itchin', nigga, the grams keep on sellin` (that's right!)
Bottom of the roost, from the heart of North Philly
To the top of Hollywood, model bitches, Cali-good
I got something that they need, that they want, I'm the supplier, shorty
Low numbers on them pretty bitches and it's FIRE!
Ghetto be my prior, I be the one that they admire
Home of the flier, I gotta become a retire, it's a rap!
I got it from here, yes I solemnly swear
This is a global introduction, a hottest premiere
Been the fuzziest year, staring out of my rear
Fuck the pussy police! We got shotties to air
Never dead body, a pair, paid a pussies a visit
Never mind being tense, never fuck a statistic
Never disappearance, and nobody know why he did it
Its just the code of this shit, and we live it, Curren$y kick it
(Uh kick it)
[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Yeah!
One of the masters of the drug flow
Anti-club dress code, I just ignore those
Narnia lions, different dimensions in my wardrobe
Thinking' on the outside of the box like a barcode (Sail on!)
Like a seven-foot center, Spitta don't gotta cross over
I just stay in the lane, show off dunks and hang
From my goals obtained, planes boarded
Though I was already soarin', you smell it in my clothes
Mixed with cologne by Ralph Lauren
Spitta missin', you lookin' for him?
Take a number, nigga never home
Gotta call me on the yacht
Floatin' out, bottles poppin' before I left the dock
Who is that in the Vinny Jack bumpin' Super Cat, XJ 12?
Soft top, retractable shell
Parking near the boat launch in Paris, spending french bread
Nigga croissants, I got a flow that you can sail on
Yeauh!
[Hook: Commodores & (Curren$y)]
Sail on, sugar! (Yea, yep. They look up to the Jets nigga, now where haven't we...?)
Good times never felt so good (Wondering if they-)
Sail on, sugar! (Crookin' their necks and they lookin' up to the JETS)
Good times never felt so good (From the mansion to the yacht deck)
[Verse 3: Curren$y]
(Uh)
Spitta is chillin', jeans, paper, denim
Milk and Oreos with the double stuffed filling
On the internet, ordering another engine
For the lavender Chevy with the suede grey innards
Seen niggas go insane trying to get it
The thought process of a first place winner
JETS nigga! We enter the dragon, got Bruce Lee in the go-yard
My lethal kicks cause damage
Vaca Puff Sour Diesel in the hammy
They hated on it, said that it could never happen
I waited on em as my plan was bein mastered
Have patience cuz the best is the last laughin'
Slashing, dashing, through my defenders, no look passin'
Bitches in the rapture love my rappin' with a passion
And I'm... New Orleans fliest
Do rewind this, The JETS get the highest
(Uh)
[Hook]
Sail on, sugar!
Good times never felt so good
Sail on, sugar!
Good times never felt so good
Gunna!(Sail on!)
Shit was all good while it lasted, but I can't keep on sailing
As long as the fiends keep on itchin', nigga, the grams keep on sellin` (that's right!)
Bottom of the roost, from the heart of North Philly
To the top of Hollywood, model bitches, Cali-good
I got something that they need, that they want, I'm the supplier, shorty
Low numbers on them pretty bitches and it's FIRE!
Ghetto be my prior, I be the one that they admire
Home of the flier, I gotta become a retire, it's a rap!
I got it from here, yes I solemnly swear
This is a global introduction, a hottest premiere
Been the fuzziest year, staring out of my rear
Fuck the pussy police! We got shotties to air
Never dead body, a pair, paid a pussies a visit
Never mind being tense, never fuck a statistic
Never disappearance, and nobody know why he did it
Its just the code of this shit, and we live it, Curren$y kick it
(Uh kick it)
[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Yeah!
One of the masters of the drug flow
Anti-club dress code, I just ignore those
Narnia lions, different dimensions in my wardrobe
Thinking' on the outside of the box like a barcode (Sail on!)
Like a seven-foot center, Spitta don't gotta cross over
I just stay in the lane, show off dunks and hang
From my goals obtained, planes boarded
Though I was already soarin', you smell it in my clothes
Mixed with cologne by Ralph Lauren
Spitta missin', you lookin' for him?
Take a number, nigga never home
Gotta call me on the yacht
Floatin' out, bottles poppin' before I left the dock
Who is that in the Vinny Jack bumpin' Super Cat, XJ 12?
Soft top, retractable shell
Parking near the boat launch in Paris, spending french bread
Nigga croissants, I got a flow that you can sail on
Yeauh!
[Hook: Commodores & (Curren$y)]
Sail on, sugar! (Yea, yep. They look up to the Jets nigga, now where haven't we...?)
Good times never felt so good (Wondering if they-)
Sail on, sugar! (Crookin' their necks and they lookin' up to the JETS)
Good times never felt so good (From the mansion to the yacht deck)
[Verse 3: Curren$y]
(Uh)
Spitta is chillin', jeans, paper, denim
Milk and Oreos with the double stuffed filling
On the internet, ordering another engine
For the lavender Chevy with the suede grey innards
Seen niggas go insane trying to get it
The thought process of a first place winner
JETS nigga! We enter the dragon, got Bruce Lee in the go-yard
My lethal kicks cause damage
Vaca Puff Sour Diesel in the hammy
They hated on it, said that it could never happen
I waited on em as my plan was bein mastered
Have patience cuz the best is the last laughin'
Slashing, dashing, through my defenders, no look passin'
Bitches in the rapture love my rappin' with a passion
And I'm... New Orleans fliest
Do rewind this, The JETS get the highest
(Uh)
[Hook]
Sail on, sugar!
Good times never felt so good
Sail on, sugar!
Good times never felt so good