Big K.R.I.T., Big Sant - Ova da Sky lyrics

It might be the herb or the rims on the curb
That got me seeing so high
It must be the clothes or the suicide doors
Make 'em break the next exit pass by
It can't be the jewels
I think it's the shoes
That make me so fly, how fly?

Now I could rap about cars
More exotic broads
Buyin' out the bar like I'm some kinda star
Money bags galore, condos by the shore E
Elaborate punchlines just to dazzle
You some more i could talk about hoes
How I break 'em blindfold
Hand behind my back with
My mouth taped closed
No, talk when it's hot shit
Chillin' when it's cold
The cushy-cushy highs and the old school lows
And can tell you bout French
The diamonds on my neck
The liquor in my system but
I still didn't wreck
Yea, all of that is cool but
It's mean none the less
I'm fly, so way up high

It might be the herb or the rims on the curb
That got me seeing so high
It must be the clothes or the suicide doors
Make 'em break the next exit pass by
It can't be the jewels
I think it's the shoes
That make me so fly, how fly?

Now I could rap about haters
Guns with the lasers
Stripper pole professionals and sexual favors
Ralph Lauren uniform, purple those labels
Ferraris and cars, just horses in the stable
Yea, we can keep it pimpin'
From here down to Jamaica kingston to Dubai
Wherever planes can take us
But how about the future? I'm
Winnin' and they losers my debonairaness
The swag that might seduce ya
The, the stars that II reach for
Fell short and off course and landed on Mars
Yea, all of that is cool
But it's me nothin' more
I'm fly, so way up high

It might be the herb or the rims on the curb
That got me seeing so high
It must be the clothes or the suicide doors
Make 'em break the next exit pass by
It can't be the jewels
I think it's the shoes
That make me so fly, how fly?

Ey, Now I can talk about the high
The way it peels when it landed get
Hit's runways from out the sky
The way the sunrise and how
The time change up
The way the foreign car sound
Different when it crank up
Or maybe 'bout the doughs, up in expose
Inside same color pedals of a rose
Bustin' maybe on the chocolate got us
Minaj with the yella'
Well I'm just bein' modest
So whether you can mop it
Cash filled pockets
The after sails, or seven seas
Thats before we dock it
Bro, we gonna save all that for next time
'til then I'msoaring high

It might be the herb or the rims on the curb
That got me seeing so high
It must be the clothes or the suicide doors
Make 'em break the next exit pass by
It can't be the jewels
I think it's the shoes
That make me so fly, how fly?