Showroom Lyrics - The Stoned Immaculate - Curren$y

Checkered flag type shit 

Yea, when the speedometer reads 70 miles per hour 

A spoiler is deployed from the trunk 

Less wind resistance, more power 

You ain't sat in nothing like this once (niggaa) 

Fresh from the pages of Car & Driver 

To the possession of high pilots 

File it in my collection 

With the rest of my shit 

Up-to-date bill sheets, documented mileage 

Handbook in the console I know everything about it 

Got yo woman wet, she need goggles 

See me on the set, I'm the picture of survival 

Live in the flesh, dropping bombs on my rivals 

We the motherfucking JETS 

You just motherfucking clown shoes 

Borrowing ya big homie jewelry shooting virals 

Never wheeling them cars, just standing by them 

Not really knowing them broads, just standing by them 

No first class tickets, you just buy the stand-by ones 

I'm adding dollars, you admiring 

I'm Words With Friends whole time in-flight wireless 

Email full of condo prices 

Marble or granite, kitchen islands 

Got a mill out the deal I'm still on the grind 

(JET life on these niggas yeah) 

Got 10 more coming just give me some time 

(JET life on them bitches yeah) 

Putting it all together got something in mind 

(JET life on them niggas yeah) 

Show them better than I can tell them they gon feel me 

Show them better than I can tell em they gon' feel me 

Niggas I came up with changing up say they gone kill me 

If they ever catch me slipping 

I dont give a fuck, sincerely 

I know they just emotional, they love me, they fear me 

They like my women, they see me steering, wish they was in it 

Jealousy, just feeding em negative energy 

I put my hands together praying for my friend-emies 

Only let paper chasers dwell in this vicinity 

Can't violate the JET code without penalty 

Even family get let go "Fredo, you killing me" 

I work hard, bloggers thinking that it's 10 of me 

Dropping record after record like them bitches slippery 

I like nice shit and I know how to get it 

Hustle dumbass, it's not rocket science or Quantum Physics 

Get on task fool, Trap til a trillion 

Wrote these raps in New Orleans and performed them in New Zealand 

Word to Pusha T and that's legal drug dealing 

"My God", what a feeling 

engineering 

, Decepticon ceilings 

Push button disappearing when the drizzle clearing 

I'll probably be laid in the enclave, until then 

Jet miss in the kitchen grilling up steaks 

It'll smell like Ruth's Chris in a minute fool, you want a plate? 

The hero unsung when I'm done they'll say I'm great 

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