[Intro:]
(Yawns)
Long night,
Think I gave my last hundred (To the fuckin' valet)
Good evening Mr. Jackson
I mean good morning, shit
Dang
[Verse 1:]
Uhh, Number fo' jordan soles to the flo'
Steppin through the elevator door,
Select a level that I wanna be on
One push of a button be gone
Doors open in the living room of my home,
Penthouse I own
I got it on my own
When I'm gone and gray
Freeze that on my tombstone
Nigga I'm in the zone,
Like the 1-3-1
Lookin' down on the super dome gettin super doam
New Orleans I roam
I love where I'm from
They know where I started they know how far I've come
If I said I'm a do it you could consider it done
My track record approve it I showed you for seven months
Mixtape after mixtape all was solid
Google my name and you could read all about it
No longer No limit but a nigga still bout it
No longer Cash Money still got fat pockets
[Chorus:]
Uhh, this is elevator music
All we do is ride around and get high too it [x2]
All we do is ride around and get high too it
That's why we call it the elevator music (Look up it's the jets nigga)
Cause all we do is ride around
And get high to it (Where haven't we been yet)
[Verse 2:]
Uhh, a yessir I got my lazy eyes
On that prize dime right there
I pull up the coup
It's like a pull out a chair
Because the girl broke a smile and just sat there,
Yeah shit happen like that all the time
I'm used to it
I just take it in strides
Split another, keep movin
Tie loose ends,
Burn a couple of frees
Chop fan business
Burn a pound of haze
Moves get made mo funds to raid
Niggas wanna get paid, get high, get laid
And repeat those steps
And that order everyday
My name in these streets
My name is my name
That shit that I say to remind you niggas
Even if you don't see me I'm around you niggas
I pound these bitches
Dumbfound these critics
Just spittin' the shit that I'm really livin'
Spitta
[Chorus]
