The Seventies lyrics

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Yeah, right back like I left my cell phone in the sofa cushion
Pay attention to 'em, show you how a pro do it
To the edge I push it, clearing over the ledge
Long way from down there so don't look if you're scared
On the quest for the bread, like I'm trying to build a sandwich
Tall enough to put me next to the moon if I was to stand on it
That's all, you n*ggas sugary, get caught in the rain and dissolve
Reinforced frame, now Spitta too strong
Sucka n*ggas ain't built to last that long
They out of ammunition making whack ass songs
Rap ain't wrong, it's just f*cked up, not like that forever though
Because you got us, good weed, bad b*tches among us
Try not to let this bullsh*t become us
We the Jets, my n*gga only God is above us

[Hook: Curren$y]
Crusin' in my 'lac with a diamond in the back
Bad b*tch in the passenger seat she twistin' up a sack
I know this ain't the seventies, I'm feeling like the Mac
Goldie, you can't hold me from collecting these stacks

Full steam ahead, no time for looking back
While I was off you n*ggas was getting fat
It's my time boss I need parts of all that
If I ain't on my grind then what you call that
[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Heavens to Betsy somebody catch me, I'm fallin'
Hopefully I land on both Jordan's
Get right back to the sky with another bong rip
Another broken celly maybe I should buy a phone clip
Stop it, I would never rock it
Like my wallets, my money and my rubbers all in my pockets
You already know what's in them Louie pouches
It's prescribed so I ride with at least a couple ounces
Never seen lions pouncin' on their prey
Real sh*t, that's how I approached the beat today
These, n*ggas is slippin', butterfingers going to the bar
Don't leave your broad you better bring her with you boy
Or you'll be filing a missing person report for her
Picture on a milk carton at the Krogers
Winn-Dixie or whoever your local grocery freezer
If I didn't think I would lose my account I would of U Streamed her

[Hook: Curren$y]
Crusin' in my 'lac with a diamond in the back
Bad b*tch in the passenger seat she twitstin' up a sack
I know this ain't the seventies, I'm feeling like the Mac
Goldie, you can't hold me from collecting these stacks

Full steam ahead, no time for looking back
While I was off you n*ggas was getting fat
It's my time boss I need parts of all that
If I ain't on my grind then what you call that