[Intro: Curren$y]
(Eastside)
Chevy’s on switches, bitch, we smokin' weed in it
(One love to the NY)
(AZ, big homie Nas)
Uh
[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Certified money makers, live-or-die risk takers
They can't shake us off the the trail of the paper
The hounds got the scent all in they nasal passages, we after it
The homie on the front porch package got hit
The address no good, I told him not to fuck with that bitch
And now she nowhere to be found, he out of thirty pounds
He lost weight without workin' out, he lookin' like a fuckin' clown
I'm from New Orleans, I take pride in my town
Pelicans ballin', this year I hope we Finals bound
Roll another one, I haven't put the first one down
That's how I do it, you can get the fuck outta here now
Jet Life, where the money reside
I’m in the clouds, don't talk to me about gettin' high, fool
I gets down over these silky baselines
Rolex crown, tell you the score, my phone tell me the time
[Interlude: Curren$y]
Nigga (Yeah)
(We don't set them bitches, we just keep on in)
Keep the E in it, Chevy's on switches
Bitch, we smokin' weed in
Don't post me in your pictures
If you can keep a secret we could always
Ayo, Spitta, this one took me back
[Verse 2: MAC]
Catch me on GT & D corner, I be
They come around the corner and rob we, it's R-I-P
When fake thugs flee, we from Uptown, we stand firm
I hold this spot down, and set it straight like perms
Shawty seemed kinda concerned, she asked, can he rhyme
I said, baby, do a paper-cut burn?
I run through ya clique, like the red lights at midnight
I'm left handed, but I represent that soulja shit right
I used to sport Chucks with the black lace
Till the fools went to lookin' all in MAC face, and I was gat-less
I couldn't be ya target practice, man, fuck that shit
I can't knock me off this atlas, bitch, I blaze
And I wasn't grazed, I seen some niggas these days
Went to jail, got out, and some got feminine ways
Coulda been the cigarettes he owed, shit, I don't know fa sho
But I still be on the low, nigga check my flow
I'm camouflaging, kinda wise like my homie Raj, and
I'm the one ya watchin', so turn them speakers up a notch, and
I shoot through y’s proof vest
Back in '84 my style was fresh
Game recognise game, and it's simple and plain
If I get that money, homes, you know I'ma change
A bigger house, better gear, laidback with this career
The finest girl in the world lickin' my ear, yeah
[Outro: MAC, Curren$y]
Yeah
And that was written in 1994, yeah
Nah, might have been '96
Knew it was somewhere in the mix
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