Same here. That shyt start to sound like a drill in your head after a while. More Spitta chronicles.
Mama calling for that Jet to put a reservation in
Ain't concerned where she going 'long as she stay with him
They be seeking that foundation, stable nikkas with paper
I'm all that, but I'm stingy, you ain't write n'an one of these raps
And love, I'm so serious, you might get high from hearin' it
Get stupid fly at any event, spray some Ozium in that vent
Bring them hoes and tell them shake that sh*t, send my jail nikkas flicks
We live it, she love it, in the kitchen, in the oven mitt
It's Jet Life over e'ry bi*ch
And e'ry bi*ch ass nikka breaking they back, tryna take care of them
We get high, we laugh at them
I swear ain't no comparin' them to no nikka in my area
This Jet Life, no play time, we cut them hoes, you carry them