Sy Ari Da Kid - I'm Flyin' lyrics

Yeah, yeah, yeah I'm flying
(I'm sitting on Mars with the stars nigga
Flying high) yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Squad, Squad)

Fucking with a real nigga my face card
So A1 don’t try ‘em
Sitting on cloud nine i’m so high
No lie i’m flyin'
They know we them real niggas my face card
So A1 don’t try ‘em
Sitting on cloud nine i’m so high
Take off i’m flyin'

(Squad, Squad) i’m on my fly shit
Counting tons of cash (Too much)
Swear to god man I’m running
Out of duffle bags (I need some more)
I fuck with arrogant twin
Towers still standing
Throwing stacks of my money keep these
Hoes doing the rain dance
And Dae Dae still the fucking man
Fuck you saying? Niggas in the little league
Still pitching under hand
Guess I’m swagged up, and my block on
Gucci belt diamonds same color popcorn

Wooh Da Kid be fucking off my face card
They like you can fuck my
Girl like I’m BasedGod
Sitting on cloud nine turned up
100 blunts back to back got me burnt up
Flying past them haters in my two seater
Black nigga, black chain, black wife beater
Kid got a nigga right, me and Dae Dae
Ain’t shit free, on DG pay me

Bitch I’m flying high as fuck
I don’t even smoke
Catching big fish, I might need a boat
In my driveway is where your girl car be
Cut the cameras you ain’t finna World Star me
I’m a true dude i make the crew move
Why your YouTube only got 2 views?
We ain't dropping bitches off tell
Her call a cab
Last nigga ran up on me, wanted an autograph

Rap game Peyton Manning Indianapolis Colts
Running keys through Jamaica, Usain Bolt
I can sip syrup in the underworld
I can pour a deuce in a Thunderbird
Seats crocodile with the cheetah pattern
Watching Family Matters eating
Shrimp fajita platters
Johnny hates jazz, shattered dreams
Might touchdown in your city
Like a football team

What’s real? I’ma tell you real
I do me fuck how you feel
Getting high shit, I might as well
Nigga lie to yourself only time will tell
Don’t see me nigga learn Braille
The Loudest niggas turn frail
Young niggas that’ll burn shells turn a
Fat kid into slim Kel i am legend
Headache with no Excedrin
Leaving the club at five got
To be up by seven
I’m praying to heaven we don’t end up like 9
11 i’m teching tagging these bitches
Pass one straight to my brethren

Bambino I’m a real king i’ve got new weave
Robin blue jeans I’m with the money team
Late at night I see dead people
I'm like a money zombie rubber band hundreds
Comma, comma, comma
Bankrolls after bankrolls
I keep running through rubber
Bands I need more just ran through 100 P’s
Nigga ain’t nothing slow (100 Pounds)
I’m on a low money high nigga I’m never sober