Tom: G minor
Verse 1
Am
Em
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Checkered
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flag type shit
Am
Yea, when the speedometer
Em
C
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reads 70 miles per hour
Em
A spoiler is deployed from the trunk
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Less wind resistance, more power
Am
You ain't sat in nothing like
G
Em
this once (niggaa)
Am
Fresh from the pages of Car & Driver
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To the possession of high pilots
Em
File it in my collection
Am
With the rest of my shit
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Up- to- date bill sheets,
Em
Am
Handbook in the console
I know everything about it
Em
Got yo woman wet, she need goggles
Em
I'm the picture of survival
dropping bombs on my rivals
We the motherfucking JETS
Em
Am
You just motherfucking
clown shoes
Em
Borrowing ya big homie
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jewelry shooting virals
Em
Never wheeling them cars,
just standing by them
Am
Em
Not really knowing them broads,
Am
No first class tickets,
G
Em
you just buy the stand- by ones
Am
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I'm adding dollars, you admiring
Am
I'm Words With Friends whole
Em
G
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time in- flight wireless
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Email full of condo prices
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kitchen islands
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Got a mill out the deal I'm
still on the grind
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(JET life on these niggas yeah)
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Got 10 more coming just
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give me some time
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(JET life on them bitches yeah)
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Putting it all together got
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something in mind
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(JET life on them niggas yeah)
Am
Show them better than I can
Em
tell them they gon feel me
Am
Show them better than I can tell
Em
Am
Niggas I came up with changing
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If they ever catch me slipping
C
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C
I dont give a fuck, sincerely
Am
I know they just emotional,
C
they love me, they fear me
Am
Em
They like my women, they see me steering,
wish they was in it
Am
Em
Jealousy, just feeding em negative energy
Am
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I put my hands together praying
for my friend- emies
Am
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Only let paper chasers dwell
Em
Am
Can't violate the JET
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code without penalty
Am
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Even family get let go
Am
"Fredo, you killing me"
I work hard, bloggers thinking
Am
Dropping record after record
like them bitches slippery
Em
I like nice shit and I know how to get it
Em
Am
it's not rocket science or Quantum Physics
Get on task fool, Trap til a trillion
Em
Wrote these raps in New Orleans and performed
Am
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them in New Zealand
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Word to Pusha T and that's
Em
"My God", what a feeling
, Decepticon ceilings
Em
Am
Push button disappearing
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when the drizzle clearing
I'll probably be laid in the enclave,
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Jet miss in the kitchen grilling up steaks
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It'll smell like Ruth's Chris in a minute fool,
you want a plate?
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The hero unsung when I'm done they'll say I'm great
Outro 1
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