Lyrics:

Verse 1- Sammy Adams

White picket fence, not me I'm on the top floor.
Roof top city spot lookin' over all yours.
Chillin' with a crush I don't really have time for I'm the 3 white keys in C you're a Minor.
Knew my shit bang when my music hit the high-waves.
Found out that hard work pays off like Friday's eh.
Plenty of people do the (sorray's?) But Don't seem to be blowin' like penelope and Johnnay
Sorry sound so big headed I'm just floatin, no clue where this cloud's headed. Never been addicted to the fame, no star fetish.
You worry about yours while we count our lettuce eh.

Chorus- Curren$y

All we gone do is spin that reel.
So if you think that don't come round here.
Oh? You thought that this was your year?
There's the Do' get the fuck outta here.
I'm not playin' I'm just sayin' x3
I'm not playin'

Verse 2 - Curren$y
Uh,
And when it all come down to it, the homie fin' to do his thang you gotta give it to him.
Referring 3rd person to myself about my music; you got them screen door lyrics we can see through em'.
You and your team don't get it how you say you doin',
You just tryna keep the crowd movin lyin' to em'
Disrespecting the game and gettin' paid for it.
Lost sight of what you first got in the game for.
I seen it all from my stadium seat chair
#1 row O.G brand new ol' sneaks man whatchu mean?
Flight club like shoppin' in a time machine.
Kinda like heady in my heavy chevy, talkin' to my light skinned red bone on my blackberry.
Hit it wherever I haven't been already.
Fuck all else Jets over every...


Chorus- Curren$y

All we gone do is spin that reel.
So if you think that don't come round here.
Oh? You that this was your year?
There's the Do' get the fuck outta here.
I'm not playin' I'm just sayin' x3
Word to Sam, fool.

Roll me another one...