(Jet life) 

White carpet in my star face house 
No one to gon dis on my scar faced spouse 
My IV the twisted reefer and delivering that dough 
To the front door like a piece of carrying her own 
Always financially she don't need me 
She is just in love with a real nigger continuously weedin 
At my under closed location my grow space is reading up on vintage V12 engines 
and the greatest strains this season 
and I grind for that very reason 
the toxic air that I'm breathin a leave an average man weakened 
watermarks still on the houses as I drive by 
crack the soundproofs let a cloud out it 
trill shit 
Next time I vacate I'm bringing all my cars on a plane with me 
Lor' see the same we gonna make it an' show our folks how to make them millions 
Grapplin' hooks scaleing the building rap with no hooks I'm high hows you feelin' 
Captin hook wild'n in the ceiling though no stealin that shit heard I know the feeling 
these niggas a borrowin yo style like you wasn't about to go do nuttin with it 
That's why I only kick it with real niggas like Dom Kennedy 
and people I ain't got to name cuz they was probly here gettin high wit me 
If you don't know where to put it at than I'll ride wit it 
There I try to lose you in the system for some weed in my city 
In the heart ain't no love or no pity 
Looking for charity that dog don't hunt don't come in the woods with it 

(Jet life)