Money Machine - Curren$y

Jet Life…

Roll one up for them haters

I’m just counting my paper

Jets count millions

Write my way to a million

Looking out the plane windows

Yeah — Tony said Frank wouldn’t last

Now Frank’s woman upstairs packing bags

Survival of the fittest

A sponsor no longer living

Plight to these kept ass bitches

When the dreams all ended

And then the bars slam, casket closed

Welcome to the school of hard knocks

You ain’t know you was enrolled?

Cold, I know

What’s colder is these streets

When your name no longer hot, you feel me?

Seen niggas and bitches go through

Dope game and the music

Lifestyle hard to attain

But it’s easy to get used to it

Try to maintain, under pressure

Only few do it, and that’s what inspires you to try

The gleam in your eye

Manifested in your mind

Then you start your climb

Remembering whoever you step on to come up

You may meet them another time

Fuck 'em, doe

Cause if the foot was in the other shoe

Them niggas would stand on you to get a better view

Telling you the truth, while taking them to school

Fools don’t think how I think

Can’t see these lines like I scribbled

In invisible ink in these tablets

Jet Life Commandments

Thou shall not rest until I make my whole fam rich

Fuck you take me for?

One of them sucka niggas

Who forget the set when he blow?

Never that, JLR

We’ll have his whole world changed by tomorrow

Lighters and Ozium in my car

In no way am I playing with y’all

When I say I’m so high, if I was to trip and fall, I’d land on Mars

But don’t mistake my highness for blindness

Giving me them fake smiles

I know what’s behind them

I swim with the sharks everyday

You back stroking with the guppies

Supposedly big dogs get

Chopped down to puppy size

Utterly euthanized by these flows

I’ve been crafted, secretly in my labyrinth

Sleeping on a charred mattress

Nights so hot, get that girl to the pool before she pass out

Livin in a landmark

New Ferrari underneath the car port, pull my landshark

Invite me to your party

Reserve me somewhere to park

I’m not sure what you thought

Fuck pullin off onto my lot

You got twenty minutes free?

How bout a fast brunch

Pitch me whatever proposals you want

But no promises though

I got a lot on my plate

No ham omelets, I’m on my conglomerate

Word to the kid, Willie the fly, always on top of shit, really…

Yeahh

Roll one up for them haters

I’m just counting my paper