Yeah
It’s Young Khalifa man
Curren$y the Hot Spitta
Look in the mirror man, ask yourself one thing
How Fly, yeah
Foot on the gas, I’m fast living, picture me
I ain’t have no pot to piss in, now I’m checking bags
Chiefin’ hash with politicans, helicopter pads
Some hoes to get to know and hella Zags, no tags
I ain’t one to brag, but if you ain’t trying to hear
About the money drugs and women then I ain’t one to ask
Smoke so much that I’m going brain dead
Hoes mad at me ’cause my phone’s off ’til my plane land
I tell her whoa, slow down, baby
And Spitta with me, it’s enough to go round, lady
You drive by, I give her wings, Redbull and Gin buckets
A couple of paper planes
Broadcasting my name over Internet airwaves
Bitches hear me on Twitter, put my music on their Myspace pages
If you smoke then roll up and play this
Me, I’m hot so come where the planes is, uh
She said she wants to sip Clicquot on my living room floor
Smoke weed hang with other famous people I know
Gain access to exculsive places I go
Lavish and dangerous, this the life I chose
But I wouldn’t change it for nothing
Sex, money and drugs, runways, sports cars, and luggage
Better to be somebody for one day
Then to be a nobody for your whole life so fuck it
Yeah, yeah, get the cork out the bottles
Put the purp in the E-Z Wider
Spitta in the house, hide your lighters, I take ’em
A case of mistaken identity
My bad fool, I could’ve swore I brought this one in with me
In the cinnamon interior
Not tinted early 80’s box Chevy with a Crate engine
Hijacking your women, you left her unattended
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Fly when I’m on that liqour
The way of the samurai, I got my chi centered
Sharp as blades, these bars I lay
Forever the player and never played
I slay them bitches, I never save
Bomb ass trees, they get blazed
Palm trees, we use them for the shade
What else can I say, I got it made
Like I had it built, Taylor Gang or get killed, yeah
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