[Verse 1: Wiz Khalifa]
Out of range, never running outta game
Lotta chains, came with a lot of pain
Not a day goes by I ain’t got a J
Spending change, where that Prada at?
I done blew a lot of money, got it back
Full of hate, ‘cause they not on track, my n***as, scraping Impalas
Chasing them dollars, we all live for today
But think of tomorrow
If that weed rolled up, I think she a holler
So much money stacked up, we ain’t thinking of violence
Before the plane take off, my seats are reclining
Asked how to be a boss, the secret is timing
Ain’t a boss if your reefer is quiet
Your cheese declining, you n***as ain’t loyal
I rep Taylor Gang to the soil
And for Jet Life, you'll be a memorial
You wanna learn how, here’s the tutorial
2009 n***a, if this new shit is boring
Me and Spitta got a key, we been recording
Remember when we couldn’t afford it
Now it’s private when we boarding it

[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Benz on Brabus
Crawling past armoured night crawlers on the corners
Shooters what they call ‘em
I was watching Shottas at the [?], five in the morning
Shots rang like an alarm, the target got hit in the forearm
Duck behind the car, switch hands, reloaded the cannon
And came back blasting that bitch like O-Dog
Wild gun firing
All them n***as clapping at the dawg, but he survived it
Except an innocent man standing at the bus stop
Trying to get to work early and avoid rush hour
Yesterday he put the Chevrolet in the paint shop
It gotta be passed down
And his son gunned down and forgot about
Stuntin’ for the ones who never made it out
Stuntin’ for the youngin’ still in the struggle
Coming up with ways to make a knot
This Eastside, Andretti reporting live
Stand behind the yellow tape, cover your kid’s eyes
[Verse 3: Wiz Khalifa]
Twice upon a time, chain cold
Look like Vegas lights the way it shine
Changed the game
Bout to do it twice because we grind
You n***as ain’t tough, you’re more like mice compared to mine
Three McQueen shots taste like lightning every time
If her top good than I might be into flying
N***a run up on me, won’t be lucky if he trying
You ain’t a big dog, you just a puppy in the mind
I’m like Puffy in his prime, comfortable with mine
You ain’t a GOAT bro, you just a buster with some rhymes
The gas that I smoke, like an onion, have you crying
It’s Gang, Jet Life, we ain’t much to win a dime
My Benz new, old school custom, when I’m riding
Forget about the n***a who be cuffing when she sliding
The weed good, sex good, love the way we vibin’
Gotta have a million dollars plus, you wanna chime in
Benz pulling up with a couple trucks behind it
That paper works us, look it up before you sign it
Dickies suit on while I’m puffing on the Chronic
Jumped up in the game, I ain’t rush to go to college
I was twenty-one when I touched a million dollars
Circle small, I can only trust you if you solid
Ain’t got no connection, so it must've been the talent
Rules to the game, ain't no hustle without balance
Always getting paid, stack it up and make a mountain
[Bridge: Spitta Andretti]
Me and my n***a from Pittsburgh, started from the bottom
Nothin' but critics nit-picking and suckas doubtin'
But we had a support system that was louder
Gang-Lifers, Taylor-Jets, who was high as mountains
Revolutionizing how fools got high
Redefining, what was flying
Showed you how to become a man now online
And prove to the streets they wasn’t a lie
2009, him and I

[Verse 4: Curren$y]
Close the Maybach curtains, I’m in here working
My instrument is the pen, surgery begins
Air Max Nike windsuit, powder blue, deuce
Sweatpants rolled up a little bit
Twenty grand in each sock, portfolio full of stocks
I’ma buy back the block
Invest the corporation paper into mom and pop shops
Putting our folks on top, what you know ‘bout
Really putting them on, looking out
We did them hole-in-the-walls clubs, n***a, this shit here must stop
State of the art venues, now we sell out
Revolutionized, boosted the industry of pot
Even if they do not wanna admit
Really I don’t give a shit, I’m G’d the fuck up
And I’m hella rich, look at us, super tough
Moving up in the world like elevators
Me and you like Roc-A-Fella Records in 2002
Five pounds of OG, a half P of Gorilla Glue
Writing a movie on the balcony, this could take a few
On the balcony where I take your boo, back shots
And a facial, oh, how she disgrace you
Look at who you put your faith into
Funny thing about trust, everybody have somethin'
Lesser of two evils, you’re gonna have to pick one
They bust Desert Eagles over funds like it’s fun
All full of drugs, but running low on love
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay