KhalifAndretti

[Verse 1: Wiz Khalifa]

Out of range, never running outta game

Lotta chains, came with a lot of pain

Not a day goes by I ain’t got a J

Spending change, where that Prada at?

I done blew a lot of money, got it back

Full of hate, ‘cause they not on track, my niggas, scraping Impalas

Chasing them dollars, we all live for today

But think of tomorrow

If that weed rolled up, I think she a holler

So much money stacked up, we ain’t thinking of violence

Before the plane take off, my seats are reclining

Asked how to be a boss, the secret is timing

Ain’t a boss if your reefer is quiet

Your cheese declining, you niggas ain’t loyal

I rep Taylor Gang to the soil

And for Jet Life, you'll be a memorial

You wanna learn how, here’s the tutorial

2009 nigga, if this new shit is boring

Me and Spitta got a key, we been recording

Remember when we couldn’t afford it

Now it’s private when we boarding it

[Verse 2: Curren$y]

Benz on Brabus

Crawling past armoured night crawlers on the corners

Shooters what they call ‘em

I was watching Shottas at the [?], five in the morning

Shots rang like an alarm, the target got hit in the forearm

Duck behind the car, switch hands, reloaded the cannon

And came back blasting that bitch like O-Dog

Wild gun firing

All them niggas clapping at the dawg, but he survived it

Except an innocent man standing at the bus stop

Trying to get to work early and avoid rush hour

Yesterday he put the Chevrolet in the paint shop

It gotta be passed down

And his son gunned down and forgot about

Stuntin’ for the ones who never made it out

Stuntin’ for the youngin’ still in the struggle

Coming up with ways to make a knot

This Eastside, Andretti reporting live

Stand behind the yellow tape, cover your kid’s eyes

[Verse 3: Wiz Khalifa]

Twice upon a time, chain cold

Look like Vegas lights the way it shine

Changed the game

Bout to do it twice because we grind

You niggas ain’t tough, you’re more like mice compared to mine

Three McQueen shots taste like lightning every time

If her top good than I might be into flying

Nigga run up on me, won’t be lucky if he trying

You ain’t a big dog, you just a puppy in the mind

I’m like Puffy in his prime, comfortable with mine

You ain’t a GOAT bro, you just a buster with some rhymes

The gas that I smoke, like an onion, have you crying

It’s Gang, Jet Life, we ain’t much to win a dime

My Benz new, old school custom, when I’m riding

Forget about the nigga who be cuffing when she sliding

The weed good, sex good, love the way we vibin’

Gotta have a million dollars plus, you wanna chime in

Benz pulling up with a couple trucks behind it

That paper works us, look it up before you sign it

Dickies suit on while I’m puffing on the Chronic

Jumped up in the game, I ain’t rush to go to college

I was twenty-one when I touched a million dollars

Circle small, I can only trust you if you solid

Ain’t got no connection, so it must've been the talent

Rules to the game, ain't no hustle without balance

Always getting paid, stack it up and make a mountain

[Bridge: Spitta Andretti]

Me and my nigga from Pittsburgh, started from the bottom

Nothin' but critics nit-picking and  suckas doubtin'

But we had a support system that was louder

Gang-Lifers, Taylor-Jets, who was high as mountains

Revolutionizing how fools got high

Redefining, what was flying

Showed you how to become a man now online

And prove to the streets they wasn’t a lie

2009, him and I

[Verse 4: Curren$y]

Close the Maybach curtains, I’m in here working

My instrument is the pen, surgery begins

Air Max Nike windsuit, powder blue, deuce

Sweatpants rolled up a little bit

Twenty grand in each sock, portfolio full of stocks

I’ma buy back the block

Invest the corporation paper into mom and pop shops

Putting our folks on top, what you know ‘bout

Really putting them on, looking out

We did them hole-in-the-walls clubs, nigga, this shit here must stop

State of the art venues, now we sell out

Revolutionized, boosted the industry of pot

Even if they do not wanna admit

Really I don’t give a shit, I’m G’d the fuck up

And I’m hella rich, look at us, super tough

Moving up in the world like elevators

Me and you like Roc-A-Fella Records in 2002

Five pounds of OG, a half P of Gorilla Glue

Writing a movie on the balcony, this could take a few

On the balcony where I take your boo, back shots

And a facial, oh, how she disgrace you

Look at who you put your faith into

Funny thing about trust, everybody have somethin'

Lesser of two evils, you’re gonna have to pick one

They bust Desert Eagles over funds like it’s fun

All full of drugs, but running low on love

Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay