Look Up To The Jets lyrics

[Intro]
They look up to the Jets
They look up to the Jets, n*gga, where haven't we been yet
f*ck boys wondering if they b*tch next
b*tches know the planes got it
No dope, boy, I'm in the kitchen with crack tracks
Cooking up another batch, motherf*cker, you know

[Verse 1]
Brazilian b*tches rolling my green leaves
Laying wit they clothes off, mauhf*cka, I'm spitta
Proved to n*ggas I wasn't a quitter
They thought it was over, until the Jets took over
Act like you don't see it, pimpin', look up we cloud surf
Homie, you can have the streets, the sky is my turf
My work done doubled over the summer, you in trouble
Cause the labels know I'm sure to do my numbers
The checks get cut, like chef sliced cuc*mbers
Rock first season BBC to the season opener
Half time, we probably wit the club owners
It ain't enough room in this city
'Bout to land planes on some n*ggas houses
Homie come up out it, this is our sh*t, yeah
Ask your girl who she rep, she say, Jets
And in the steps of Michael Jordan, I won't claim to be the best
I just let my work speak for itself
[Chorus]
They look up to the jets, n*gga, where haven't we been yet
They look up to the jets, n*gga, where haven't we been yet
f*ck boys wondering if they b*tch next
No dope, boy, I'm in the kitchen with Crack Tracks
Cooking up another batch, motherf*cker, you know, uh

[Verse 2]
b*tches know the planes got it
Had it in the back so long, I forgot about it
Club couch with a purple cloud around it
b*tches crowd around it I just lay back on my shy sh*t
Me and Young Roddy on our high sh*t
We don't know the difference between yo' b*tch or our b*tch
But it was clear when yo' b*tch got in my whip
Hot Spitta, my music the soundtrack to the life every rich n*gga
n*ggas familiar with Recaro interiors, and rear mounted engines
My addiction to luxury living is serious
Recording in a padded room, my flow is delirious

[Chorus]
They look up to the Jets, n*gga, where haven't we been yet
They look up to the Jets, n*gga, where haven't we been yet
f*ck boys wondering if they b*tch next
No dope, boy, I'm in the kitchen with Crack Tracks
Cooking up another batch, motherf*cker, you know
[Outro]
Every time we hear you n*ggas bit our style, we change it
Every time you try to holla at a dime, she say she taken
If you get a bad one, and bring her 'round us, she's taken
Motherf*cker, you know
(Uh, Jets)