Money Machine

[Intro] Jet Life... Roll one up for them haters I'm just counting my paper Jets count millions Write my way to a million Looking out the plane windows [Verse 1] Yeah - Tony said Frank wouldn't last Now Frank's woman upstairs packing bags Survival of the fittest A sponsor no longer living Plight to these kept ass bitches When the dreams all ended And then the bars slam, casket closed Welcome to the school of hard knocks You ain't know you was enrolled? Cold, I know What's colder is these streets When your name no longer hot, you feel me? Seen niggas and bitches go through Dope game and the music Lifestyle hard to attain But it's easy to get used to it Try to maintain, under pressure Only few do it, and that's what inspires you to try The gleam in your eye Manifested in your mind Then you start your climb Remembering whoever you step on to come up You may meet them another time Fuck 'em, doe Cause if the foot was in the other shoe Them niggas would stand on you to get a better view Telling you the truth, while taking them to school Fools don't think how I think Can't see these lines like I scribbled In invisible ink in these tablets Jet Life Commandments Thou shall not rest until I make my whole fam rich Fuck you take me for? One of them sucka niggas Who forget the set when he blow? Never that, JLR We'll have his whole world changed by tomorrow Lighters and Ozium in my car In no way am I playing with y'all When I say I'm so high, if I was to trip and fall, I'd land on Mars But don't mistake my highness for blindness Giving me them fake smiles I know what's behind them I swim with the sharks everyday You back stroking with the guppies Supposedly big dogs get Chopped down to puppy size Utterly euthanized by these flows I've been crafted, secretly in my labyrinth Sleeping on a charred mattress Nights so hot, get that girl to the pool before she pass out Livin in a landmark New Ferrari underneath the car port, pull my landshark Invite me to your party Reserve me somewhere to park I'm not sure what you thought Fuck pullin off onto my lot You got twenty minutes free? How bout a fast brunch Pitch me whatever proposals you want But no promises though I got a lot on my plate No ham omelets, I'm on my conglomerate Word to the kid, Willie the fly, always on top of shit, really... Yeahh [Outro] Roll one up for them haters I'm just counting my paper