Curren$y, Wiz Khalifa - KhalifAndretti lyrics
[Curren$y, Wiz Khalifa - KhalifAndretti lyrics]
Out of range, never running out of game
Lotta chains, came with a lot of pain
Not a day goes by I ain’t got a J
Spending change, where that Prada at?
I done blew a lot of money, got it back
Full of hate ‘cause they not on track
My niggas
Scraping them polish, chasing them dollars
We all live for today, but think of tomorrow
If that weed rolled up, I think she a holler
So much money stacked up
We ain’t thinking of violence
Before the plane take off
My seats are reclining
Asked how to be a boss, the secret is timing
Ain’t a boss if your reefer is quiet
Your cheese declining
You niggas ain’t loyal
I rep Taylor Gang to the soil
And for Jet Life, you'll be a memorial
You wanna learn how, here’s the tutorial
2009 nigga, if this new shit is boring
Me and Spitta got a key, we been recording
Remember when we couldn’t afford it
Now it’s private when we boarding it
Ay, ay, ay benz on loft crawling past armour
Night crawlers on the corners
Shooters what they call ‘em
I was watching Shottas at, 5 in the morning
Shots rang like an alarm
The target got hit in the forearm
Duck behind the car, switch hands
Reloaded the cannon
And came back blasting that bitch like O-Dog
Wild gun firing
All the niggas clapping at the
Dawg but he survived it
Except an innocent man standing
At the bus stop trying to get to work early
And avoid rush hour
Yesterday he put the Chevrolet
In the paint shop it gotta be passed down
And his son gunned down and forgot about
Stuntin’ for the ones who never made it out
Stuntin’ for the youngin’ still
In the struggle
Coming up with ways to make a knot
It's Eastside, andretti reporting live
Stand behind the yellow tape
Cover your kid’s eyes
Twice upon a time chain cold
Look like Vegas lights the way it shine
Changed the game
Bout to do it twice because we grind
You niggas ain’t tough
You’re more like mice compared to mine
3 McQueen shots taste like
Lightning every time
If her top good than I might be into flying
Nigga run up on me
Won’t be lucky if he trying
You ain’t a big dog
You just a puppy in the mind
I’m like Puffy in his prime
Comfortable with mine you ain’t a GOAT bro
You just a buster with some rhymes
The gas that I smoke, like an onion
Have you crying it’s gang Jet Life
We ain’t much to win a dime my Benz new
Old school custom when I’m riding
Forget about the nigga who be
Cuffing when she sliding
The weed good, sex good
‘bout the way we vibin’
Gotta have a million dollars
Plus you wanna chime in
Benz pulling up with a couple
Of trucks behind it that paper works us
Look it up before you sign it
Dickies suit on while I’m
Puffing on that Chronic
Jumped up in the game
I ain’t rush to go to college
I was 21 when I touched a million Dollars
Circle small
I can only trust you if you solid
Ain’t got no connection
So it must have been the talent
Rules to the game
Made no hustle without balance
Always getting paid
Stack it up and make a mountain
Me and my nigga from Pittsburgh
Started from the bottom
Nothing but critics nit-picking
A sucker’s Dollar
But we had a support system that was louder
Gang-lifers, Taylor-jets
Who was high as mountains
Revolutionizing how fools got high
Redefining, we was flying
Showed you how to become a man now online
And prove to the streets they wasn’t a lie
2009, him and I
Close the Maybach curtains
I’m in here working
My instrument is the pen, surgery begins
Air Max Nike windsuit, powder blue, deuce
Sweatpants rolled up a little bit
20 grand in each sock
Portfolio full of stocks
I’ma buy back the block
Investing corporation paper
Into mom and pop shops
Putting our folks on top what you know ‘bout
Really putting them on, looking out
We did them hole-in-the-walls clubs
Nigga, this shit here must stop
It’s state of the art venue, now we sell out
Revolutionized, boosted the industry of pot
Even if they do not wanna admit
Really I don’t give a shit
I’m G’d the fuck up and I’m hella rich
Look it up super tough
Moving up in the world like elevators
Me and you like Roc-A-Fella Records in 2002
5 pounds of OG, a half p of Gorilla Glue
Writing a movie on the balcony
This could take a few
On the balcony where I take your boo
Back shots and a facial
Oh, how she disgrace you
Look at who you put your faith into
Funny thing about trust, everybody have some
Lesser of two evils
You’re gonna have to pick one
They bust Desert Eagles over
Funds like it’s fun
All full of drugs but running low on love
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay
Lotta chains, came with a lot of pain
Not a day goes by I ain’t got a J
Spending change, where that Prada at?
I done blew a lot of money, got it back
Full of hate ‘cause they not on track
My niggas
Scraping them polish, chasing them dollars
We all live for today, but think of tomorrow
If that weed rolled up, I think she a holler
So much money stacked up
We ain’t thinking of violence
Before the plane take off
My seats are reclining
Asked how to be a boss, the secret is timing
Ain’t a boss if your reefer is quiet
Your cheese declining
You niggas ain’t loyal
I rep Taylor Gang to the soil
And for Jet Life, you'll be a memorial
You wanna learn how, here’s the tutorial
2009 nigga, if this new shit is boring
Me and Spitta got a key, we been recording
Remember when we couldn’t afford it
Now it’s private when we boarding it
Ay, ay, ay benz on loft crawling past armour
Night crawlers on the corners
Shooters what they call ‘em
I was watching Shottas at, 5 in the morning
Shots rang like an alarm
The target got hit in the forearm
Duck behind the car, switch hands
Reloaded the cannon
And came back blasting that bitch like O-Dog
Wild gun firing
All the niggas clapping at the
Dawg but he survived it
Except an innocent man standing
At the bus stop trying to get to work early
And avoid rush hour
Yesterday he put the Chevrolet
In the paint shop it gotta be passed down
And his son gunned down and forgot about
Stuntin’ for the ones who never made it out
Stuntin’ for the youngin’ still
In the struggle
Coming up with ways to make a knot
It's Eastside, andretti reporting live
Stand behind the yellow tape
Cover your kid’s eyes
Twice upon a time chain cold
Look like Vegas lights the way it shine
Changed the game
Bout to do it twice because we grind
You niggas ain’t tough
You’re more like mice compared to mine
3 McQueen shots taste like
Lightning every time
If her top good than I might be into flying
Nigga run up on me
Won’t be lucky if he trying
You ain’t a big dog
You just a puppy in the mind
I’m like Puffy in his prime
Comfortable with mine you ain’t a GOAT bro
You just a buster with some rhymes
The gas that I smoke, like an onion
Have you crying it’s gang Jet Life
We ain’t much to win a dime my Benz new
Old school custom when I’m riding
Forget about the nigga who be
Cuffing when she sliding
The weed good, sex good
‘bout the way we vibin’
Gotta have a million dollars
Plus you wanna chime in
Benz pulling up with a couple
Of trucks behind it that paper works us
Look it up before you sign it
Dickies suit on while I’m
Puffing on that Chronic
Jumped up in the game
I ain’t rush to go to college
I was 21 when I touched a million Dollars
Circle small
I can only trust you if you solid
Ain’t got no connection
So it must have been the talent
Rules to the game
Made no hustle without balance
Always getting paid
Stack it up and make a mountain
Me and my nigga from Pittsburgh
Started from the bottom
Nothing but critics nit-picking
A sucker’s Dollar
But we had a support system that was louder
Gang-lifers, Taylor-jets
Who was high as mountains
Revolutionizing how fools got high
Redefining, we was flying
Showed you how to become a man now online
And prove to the streets they wasn’t a lie
2009, him and I
Close the Maybach curtains
I’m in here working
My instrument is the pen, surgery begins
Air Max Nike windsuit, powder blue, deuce
Sweatpants rolled up a little bit
20 grand in each sock
Portfolio full of stocks
I’ma buy back the block
Investing corporation paper
Into mom and pop shops
Putting our folks on top what you know ‘bout
Really putting them on, looking out
We did them hole-in-the-walls clubs
Nigga, this shit here must stop
It’s state of the art venue, now we sell out
Revolutionized, boosted the industry of pot
Even if they do not wanna admit
Really I don’t give a shit
I’m G’d the fuck up and I’m hella rich
Look it up super tough
Moving up in the world like elevators
Me and you like Roc-A-Fella Records in 2002
5 pounds of OG, a half p of Gorilla Glue
Writing a movie on the balcony
This could take a few
On the balcony where I take your boo
Back shots and a facial
Oh, how she disgrace you
Look at who you put your faith into
Funny thing about trust, everybody have some
Lesser of two evils
You’re gonna have to pick one
They bust Desert Eagles over
Funds like it’s fun
All full of drugs but running low on love
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay
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