Из альбома: Pilot Talk
Yeahh… Jets Fool, Pilot Talk Nigga
Everybody around this bitch got money
We ain’t never gon run outta weed
Yeah, look up Hollow a mountain out
Build a villa in it, pimp that’s what I’m talkin' bout
Uh, Closed minded lil' children, I write my way to a million, lookin' out the
plane windows
Fuck around get popped like a collar
For slippin' in my city get bitten, chewed, swallowed
Fool, what you think you like me Your idol and your rival I be Holdin' the title with the precision of a hunter’s rifle
Shots fired, the forest too quiet, trees ignited
Fall back baby girl let me get high chick
Eagle droppings, fly shit, who gon' stop him
On the grind I am like a quarterback attackin' defensive lineman homie who gon'
block em Tearin thru the city
Snatchin' bitches top of the building
King Kong ain’t got shit on me 25−8, goin ape for the cake nigga
King Kong ain’t got shit on me Wanna be pilots, get swatted out the sky around I King Kong ain’t got shit on me Larger than life, they hate me because they ain’t me King Kong ain’t got shit on me Yea, came up, put it down for my set what I did Jets nigga
Founder of a flyer society raisin' the partition so the driver won’t bother me Women wishin for a position on either side of me Hopin' for a free ride to the top with me Spendin my cheese, smokin my broccoli
Dressed neat, left the hotel suite sloppy off the Chopper tree
Upstate New York, Woodstock, Saugerties
The view from my rockin chair you would not believe
A million miles from New Orleans, left the key to the city with my brother now
I’m comin back for it