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Money Machine (Prod. by Dirk Pate, Monsta Beatz)

Jet life jet life

Roll one up for the haters

I'm just counting my paperTony said Frank wouldn't last

Now Frank warmin' upstairs packin' bags

Survival of the fittest

A sponsor no longer living

Plight of these kept ass bitches

When the dreams all ended and the bars slam

Cast your clothes

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 meSeen niggas and bitches go through a 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

Rememberin' whoever you step onto to come up

You may meet them another time

Fuck 'em, noIf the foot was in the other shoe

Them niggas would stand on you

To get a better view, tellin' you the truth

While takin' them to school

Fools don't think how I think

Can't see these lines

Like I'm scribblin' invisible ink in these tablets

Jet life commandments

Though shall not rest until I make my whole fam rich

Fuck you take me for?

One of them sucker niggas

Who forget to set when he blowNever that

JLR we'll have this whole world changed by tomorrow

Lighters and opium in my cars

And no way am I playin' 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 whats behind them

I swim with the sharks everyday

You backstroking with the guppies

Supposedly big dawgs get chopped down to puppy sizeUtterly euthanized by these flows I been craftin'

Secretly in my labyrinth

Sleepin' on a charred mattress

Night so hot

Get that girl to the pool before she pass out

Livin' in a lambo

New Ferrari underneath the car put my land show

If I'm into your part of reserve me some weather park

I'm not sure what you thought

Fuck pullin' off onto my lot

Got twenty minutes freeHow bout a fast brunch

Pitch me whatever proposals you want

No promises though

I got a lot on my plate

No ham omelets I'm on my conglomerate

Word to the kid willing to fly

Always on top of shit really

Jet life jet life

Write my way to a million looking out the planes windows

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

Talking captivating the digits

When my skydiving the cut

Songwriters

Franklin, Shante / Fitch, John A / Harleaux, Daryl AnthonyPublished by

Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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