Letra Money magnet Curren$y

Money magnet

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

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, though
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, 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
Yeah

Roll one up for them haters
I'm just counting my paper