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Curren$y - The Stoned Immaculate Album Lyrics



Curren$y - The Stoned Immaculate Lyrics






What It Look Like

[Intro: Wale]
We blessed to be here
It's a blessing for you to be here with us
MMG shit, Jet Life, BOA, f*ck y'all
What it look like
My niggas fly niggas, this is Jet Life
For the occasion, paper planes

[Hook: Wale]
Look, what it look like
My niggas fly niggas, this is Jet Life
Yea!

Look, now roll my J tight
Ha! You know what they like
Yea! Yea!

[Verse 1: Wale]
Paris SB's make these niggas catch seizures
Foam game shitting on Irish Springs and Lever
Ha! I'm more cleaver, clever
Whether any weather, nobody doing it better
Me and Spitta, Gucci bucket I'm Gilligan
Ain't no Skipper but all my bitches is Ginger hair
My real estate sweet, yea ginger bread
Probably seen meaner bars probably in the feds
Double M G forever though
Money got me pulling strings, I got that Geppetto dough
Always in them better clothes, I be with them better hoes
No bullshit, every shy bitch can get a rose
Meaning aroused, I'm sorry I'm not too good with vowels
I got a thousand bitches, I'm not too good with vows
We in Spitta Ferrari, brand new Tiffanys on me
Don't f*ck with PBS, but man, I'm addicted to Barney's
That's G shit, I be bumping Fiend shit
And I'm on a roll, you would think they giving me a X
Wordplay like a muf*cker
I'm Durant at the Rucker, your woman's a perfect jumper
Wetter than a swish and I never miss
Get her out her delicates and I ain't gotta tell her shit
Put it on whatever bitch, me and Spitta high as shit
Rex Ryan on these hoes, Jet Life forever bitch

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Curren$y]
The engine in back of my car
I'm clearly in a different tax bracket now, dog
Mainstream cheese but I ain't acting like y'all
Rapping that gabbage, attracting maggots
I'm in Dulles waiting on luggage - luxury baggage
Four door carriage with the V8 S badges
I'm in the mirror of the Panamera
Looking at them haters crammed in the Dodge Stratus
Can't keep up, get your liters in order
4.8, interior custom, leather suede borders
Not mine, I'm with Wale, I'm just a tourist on the set
Looking for dangerously hot bitches and safe sex
I get mine and I bounce like a bad check
You smell the ounce, I ain't even in ya house yet
We smoke loud, might have to get your ears checked out
After your hoes leave the Jets' hangout
Them lames ain't even know the newest planes came out
But I'm in every real nigga Cutlass in the parking lot of the Wing Stop bumping
So f*ck it, I'm platinum in the streets
I never gave a f*ck and that's what they love
She just wanna f*ck, homie just wanna hug
Rapping roulette, this life is a drug
And baby girl can't get enough - fill her up

[Hook x2]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: OLUBOWALE VICTOR AKINTIMEHIN, RAY ANGRY, ROOSEVELT III HARRELL, SHANTE FRANKLIN
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Privacy Glass

[Intro]
One time for the weed
One time for the bitches who don't mind being called that
It's love

[Verse 1]
Privacy glass
Down halfway, reflections cast
On office buildings as I pass
Bitch feeling some kind of way
Sitting right next to me thinking 'bout what's next with me
Intimidated by the playaness, ain't no how to say the shit she texted me
Like "When you tryna take it to the house?"
I'm like "Baby girl, we can get to it right now"
Enough room in this red label, fold up them oak tray tables, get down
Raise that dress up, oh you ain't got nothing on?
You knew you was gon' f*ck me, huh?
Girls waiting on you so they all vexed at the crib
Hit you with that 20 questions when they see you stepping out of this
(What that is) privacy glass

[Hook]
And I usually don't ride like this
But lately I been on some whole other shit
And I usually don't ride like this
Privacy tinted, professionally driven

[Verse 2]
Talking 'bout breakfast at a boat lunch
Anchor the yacht, park them sports cars
This shit ain't for them, this is all ours
High off life, I'll die if I ever fall off
Ho see that vision and know I ball
Cause ain't no such thing as halfway Jets
Impostor ass niggas is kicks, they Payless
I'm baggage claim
The driver hold a sign with my name, LAX
This ain't no rental, I shipped it before I got here, ahead of time
Now I'm blue Ferrari on the 405, redline
Kush clouds, sunshine
Good times, inspired these dope lines
They stronger than coke, colder than froze
Baby don't know if it's for her ears or for her nose
Do what you feeling, they can't see us in here

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Larry Thomas, Shante Franklin
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Armoire

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
For Cuban linx
Yellow gold, January cold, my mink
I'm from the the school of old, check out my ring
I won a super bowl of hash,I saw the Mona Lisa blink
Not falling off my ass
Cause I lean like the Tower of Pisa on stained glass
At the church, funeral services for this beat
Niggas tryna steal my style, I can hear 'em in my sleep
Like young thieves outside tryna break in your Z
28 or your Double S, they hit your Trans-Am
For your big nose hood and you know them fools man
And I swear that ain't no good, but I'm not surprised
Cause it's all fair in the game
Of f*cking these bitches due to your street fame
This shit's wicked, deserves a documentary
Deadstocks on my feet, I'm walking ancient history
Niggas is beast hype, tryna be like what we write
Ain't nothing but that Jet Life

[Hook: Trademark (Young Roddy)]
I'm talking stacks in the walls, floors, ceilings
A house made of money, feel what I'm building
(Cause this rap shit just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
(Cause this rap shit just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
I'm talking pounds in the fridge, hundred stack in the armoire
Constant reminders of what the f*ck we grind for
(Cause this rap shit just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)
(Cause this rap shit just my hustle baby, we paper chasing)

[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Still at it, Jet Set mathematics
I'm, from the city of choppers clappers and levee crackage
All levels completed, bitch I'm All-Madden
Smoking out the E-Class wagon
It's just that "to the airport" action, I am more Mr. 2 Door
Still running triple O game on my new hoes
More than one time was I told that I was too cold
Gucci Mane, tryna be grizzly burr on these hoes
Foundation laid, and from that, a mansion rose
When my driver bring yo bitches home, ask her how that Caddy roll
You can tell that she was with daddy, just smell her clothes
Money and smoke, that's all I know

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Alex Washington, Daryl Anthony Harleaux, John A Fitch, Roderick Brisco, Shante Franklin
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Songtrust Ave, ST MUSIC LLC




Take You There

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Uh, clearly I made it, all of this hating
Show's over, it's a couple bad one waiting
Tryna get chosen, flown to a exotic destination
Smoking on something as strong as my vivid imagination
I don't see nothing wrong with love being naked
Out this world whips, my crib a space station
My life is a trip, my crib a vacation

[Hook: Marsha Ambrosius]
Bright lights, big city
Big cars, [?]
So baby you can roll with me
I'll show you how it's supposed to be

Big stars, I'll spot ya
Be calm, I got ya
So baby let me take you there
Baby, let me take you there

[Verse 2: Curren$y]
Yellow gold my link, Coca Cola my mink
Louie pouch holding that stink, love what you think I came without it?
Never that, I keep a pack of papers in my pocket
Applaud all my hot shit, in them hoes mouths like gossip
Money old as Lou Gossett, dollar clocker
Too late for doctors, this dead on arrival
Baby recognize G when it's in her eye, yo
Boss up nigga, this is what she ride fo'
Nigga fooling in that 2-0 Tahoe
Sunroof half open and my eyes halfway closed
It's a movie 'round here baby, might see somebody famous
Niggas getting change but we won't let it change us
Jet Life the campaign, can't stop the reign
Had to put the top up on the Vanquish

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Curren$y]
I'm slanging raps off my iPad
Thinking back when High Times was a dime bag
We was smoking good, but it was all bad
Now we ride in that burgundy with the tan rag
If you ain't heard of me
A nigga guessin that your internet services ain't working too good at yall pad
It's all good, I'll hand y'all a late pass
Bring you up to speed 'fore we get to moving too fast
Back when I maneuvered that Jag hard top coupe
I just knew I was cooler than these lil' dudes out doing it
I was just being patient, pimping, perfecting my groovy
Sitting in the jacuzzi, on that Bluray Scarface
Nigga thinking 'bout music, while I'm ?
And my girl in the vanity mirror, wiping off Mac lip gloss
Finna roll up a doobie, sincerely yours truly
They can't do nothing with me, they can't do nothing to me

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: MARSHA AMBROSIUS, KENNETH BARTOLOMEI, KEVIN DEAN CROWE, SHANTE FRANKLIN, ERIK ORTIZ
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group




Showroom

Checkered flag type shit

[Verse 1]
Yea, when the speedometer reads 70 miles per hour
A spoiler is deployed from the trunk
Less wind resistance, more power
You ain't sat in nothing like this once (niggaa)
Fresh from the pages of Car & Driver
To the possession of high pilots
File it in my collection
With the rest of my shit
Up-to-date bill sheets, documented mileage
Handbook in the console I know everything about it
Got yo woman wet, she need goggles
See me on the set, I'm the picture of survival
Live in the flesh, dropping bombs on my rivals
We the motherf*cking JETS
You just motherf*cking clown shoes
Borrowing ya big homie jewelry shooting virals
Never wheeling them cars, just standing by them
Not really knowing them broads, just standing by them
No first class tickets, you just buy the stand-by ones
I'm adding dollars, you admiring
I'm Words With Friends whole time in-flight wireless
Email full of condo prices
Marble or granite, kitchen islands
Home stylings

[Hook]
Got a mill out the deal I'm still on the grind
(JET life on these niggas yeah)
Got 10 more coming just give me some time
(JET life on them bitches yeah)
Putting it all together got something in mind
(JET life on them niggas yeah)
Show them better than I can tell them they gon feel me

[Verse 2]
Show them better than I can tell em they gon' feel me
Niggas I came up with changing up say they gone kill me
If they ever catch me slipping
I don't give a f*ck, sincerely
I know they just emotional, they love me, they fear me
They like my women, they see me steering, wish they was in it
Jealousy, just feeding em negative energy
I put my hands together praying for my friend-emies
Only let paper chasers dwell in this vicinity
Can't violate the JET code without penalty
Even family get let go "Fredo, you killing me"
I work hard, bloggers thinking that it's 10 of me
Dropping record after record like them bitches slippery
I like nice shit and I know how to get it
Hustle dumbass, it's not rocket science or Quantum Physics
Get on task fool, Trap til a trillion
Wrote these raps in New Orleans and performed them in New Zealand
Word to Pusha T and that's legal drug dealing
"My God", what a feeling
Italian engineering, Decepticon ceilings
Push button disappearing when the drizzle clearing
I'll probably be laid in the enclave, until then
Jet miss in the kitchen grilling up steaks
It'll smell like Ruth's Chris in a minute fool, you want a plate?
The hero unsung when I'm done they'll say I'm great

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DAVID POMERANZ, SHANTE FRANKLIN, RONALD LATOUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group




Capitol

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
This Jet Life, don't scrub, you blot that
Flow rugs in the Porsche, I'm out front and got my top back
Label me a author, forefounder of lifestyle rap
Watching these niggas borrow game
Not acknowledging where they got that
Though I fall back, let them run with that, consider those my rebel kids
Clashing with they father figure
When they know they wanna be just like him
Where might I have been without my pen
To scribble about what I done wit 'em
Girls that I took home last night, Chevys I sat on top them rims
I'm good in front of that camera lens, weed smoke when my video spins
At her house, rolling up in her boy shorts, my mafia bitch
Plotting up, I'm counting up, going for it cause I go and get it
So you liable to see her with me, my pockets fat, my tires skinny
Loud pack, got a louder engine, 80 large, all Benjamins
Vacationing, 2 nights spending, I ain't tripping
Fool I know how to get that back, homie my triple O showed me that
Same thing showed my how to roll them Zags

[Hook: Curren$y x2]
And my reputation precedes me, they already know
I keep it capital G apostrophe D
Going hard, making it look easy
Cause when I do what it do, I do it like I'm doing it for TV

[Verse 2: 2 Chainz]
You know I do it like I'm doing it for do
Watch the shoes, ostrich, you know what time it is like 2 watches
My reputation, detonation on destination
I separated, elevated: get salutation
I'm seldom seen in forest green foreign machine
Dirty south but the engine clean and that pussy clean
Criminal thing, a criminal mind
I got a pocket full of dead presidents, I'mma bring them alive
Riding shotgun with that K on the side
Bitches that I'm done with, let them lay on the side
Clock on your mind, I'm ahead of your time
Hublot transform like Optimus Prime
Diamonds on, diamonds off, shawty ass kinda soft
Tattoos, lip gloss, pockets on Rick Ross
I'm fantasizing a tantalizing experience
Bitches like photography, I just take a pick

[Hook x2]

[Verse 3: Curren$y]
I'm up in this, 442 on them Budnik rims
Somewhat a pimp
All them gangsta bitches f*ck with him
Bring ducketts in
When records wasn't really bumping, they was in love with him
To see him balling is like drugs to them
Mama calling for that Jet to put a reservation in
Ain't concerned where she going 'long as she stay with him
They be seeking that foundation, stable niggas with paper
I'm all that, but I'm stingy, you ain't write n'an one of these raps
And love, I'm so serious, you might get high from hearin' it
Get stupid fly at any event, spray some Ozium in that vent
Bring them hoes and tell them shake that shit, send my jail niggas flicks
We live it, she love it, in the kitchen, in the oven mitt
It's Jet Life over e'ry bitch
And e'ry bitch ass nigga breaking they back, tryna take care of them
We get high, we laugh at them
I swear ain't no comparin' them to no nigga in my area
This Jet Life, no play time, we cut them hoes, you carry them

[Hook x2]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: TAUHEED EPPS, SHANTE FRANKLIN, ISAIAH CAMPBELL, D TWYMAN JR.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC




No Squares

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Battle axe rap swingin' like 84 elbows
On the H-Town slab Cadillac Eldo
Spokes pokin I should be the "weed
Don't stop me from workin" spokesperson cause I get it in
Stoned, active like a sober person runnin
Rather have my feet hurtin than my pockets
I chase that money down like it said somethin' bout my mama
I chase that money down like I think it took my wallet
I chase that money down like it key scratched my impala
I chase that money down pile it up and climb on top it
Trill nigga mountain at the summit countin' hunneds
You try and take me from it you gone plummet to the bottom
If there was a winning contest then I did won it, done it
Bossed up playa don't do much but kick it I'm a punter
No pun intended I'm a stunner
Brung the Lamb to the motor cross ramp like f*ck it
I'mma jump it, officer love muffin
It should be a crime how you lockin' down that bitch
But the girl mine
Said she wouldn't do it again for the third time
Figured you realize at some point that the girl lyin'
Either you blind or you don't mind
Either way I'd never hustle with yo kind
Cuz we'd never get no bread, you too scared
Pimpin this the 3rd installment, what you sayin

[Hook]
No square shall enter in the circle of winners
No square shall enter in the circle of winners
No square shall enter in the circle of winners
Ain't been like none of them niggas as far as I can remember
No square shall enter in the circle of winners
No square shall enter in the circle of winners
No square shall enter in the circle of winners
They was payin them bitches, I was payin attention

[Verse 2: Spitta]
I do it for myself, not for them bitches
They just included with this good living
I'm paid for making music with my niggas
Been doing this and never even showed by who or his, now who the shit?
Jet Life, started the reeforlution
Cain't call it, I'm just doing what my old heads was doing
And I'm privileged to have seen them start movements
Behaving in the wild fashion, acting unruly
OG, so it take a double O to school me
That[?] somethings still a [?] might put them on some game, truly dog
In the fast lane cruising, go around me
I'm riding to my music, slowing down to some Sade on the doubie
Overtaking your position and it won't be much to me
Took your championship cup and I filled it with a smoothie
With my feet kicked up, take my picture
If looks could kill, your family would sue me
I'm that nigga

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Wiz Khalifa]
I'm rolling up an insane amount of smoke
Diamonds all up in the chain around my throat
Telling me that I should change, it's all I know
I live the dream of private planes and piles of dough
Tatted on my face 'cause that's what I believe in
Make sure they know it's TGOD when they see me
We was broke but know we getting used to bread
Versace on and watching my medusa heads
You niggas looking hungry, you could use some bread
You niggas need security, you could use a craig
My young niggas slanging where them users is
I'm from Pistolvania where them shooters is
Dressing like a hippy, drinking gin straight
Heard they money funny, bitch I been straight
Hundred for them bottles, spending 10 straight
Me and Spitta got the template

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CAMERON THOMAZ, SHANTE FRANKLIN, GERARD K MARINO
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.




Sunroof

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Money in my bank account, money in my denim
Money on these bitches' brains, they be tryna get it
Tryna run my pockets but I'm not tryna hear it
That's mine baby - what is you deaf, blind, crazy?
That ain't my Mercedes, that's my homeboy Benz
That's too new for me, I'm so vintage loaf
Cuban link, yellow gold, bought a British automobile
Cause I watch Layer Cake too many times
And I had access to too much of that scrilla mine
Let me ride, these hoes got me feeling like Dre
Chronic high, these blades got me feeling like UGK, coming down

[Hook: Curren$y]
Middle finger out the sunroof, f*ck a hater
That's a message, when a nigga ride through, I'm 'bout my paper
These hoes got a nigga all confused, think I'mma save 'em
They say that I'm them other dudes, got me mistaken
It's a whole 'nother world 'round here, a hundred baby
These niggas stacking change but these niggas ain't changing
It's a whole 'nother world 'round here, this shit amazing
The word spreading fast and these bitches say I made it

[Verse 2: Corner Boy P]
And nigga I'm still lane switching and pimpin
I'll save a half a dub before I save her
And that's 'til I die, I be as G as can be
Tell my mama when I go, bury me in a mink
My bitch say I need to change my ways and be more honest
I tell her ain't nothing change but the change in your spot ain't promised
All these bitches at my neck, I don't need an extra collar
And lames can stay in they lane, causing traffic jams and pile ups
So it's Jets up over every, and them plans land in dally
Three phones, still can't reach me with that shit you tryna tell me
Cause I vow to keep it trill, only focus on my mills
I done blew niggas deals on wheels, ride past road kill

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Curren$y]
I'm riding on elbows, money green El Do Rado I'm moving with 7 grams in my shell toes
Thinking 'bout pinky rings, might snatch me a pair of those
Pressed against my steering wheel, shining like a phantom grill
Didn't switch because I picked them chips up, I stayed real
Short bed Chevy pickup on off set 3 piece wheels
Muscle car maniac, wherever the bank be at
We thinking 'bout taking that president masses potato sacks
I'm puffing that danger pack, counting a paper stack
Laying up in Palm Springs, working on my golf swing
Smoked out, flying over the gulf, in a Gulf Stream
Indulging in delicacies, Jet Life is a legacy
Yea...

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Arthur Cortes Verocai, Corner Boy P, Daryl Anthony Harleaux, John A Fitch, Shante Franklin, Vitor Martins
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Chasin Paper

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
I know what it's like
To want it all, I was born to ball
Making Lamborghini engine sounds pedaling my bike
Lusted at luxury life since a tyke
Switches on a Monte Carlo turn a car into a trike
These images was burned in my mind
Chasing that paper like it stole something of mine
It did though, friends killed over small bills
I still go, hard spitting bars for them folk
Life so fragile
But the big bucks lay down the road less travelled
Cause they scared of the hazards
We living for the money, nigga we dying to have it
These hoes shaking asses doing lines
Popping valiums adding to a long list of bad habits
Niggas murdering, burglaring and kidnapping
Dashing and cashing all in the midst of the madness

[Hook: Pharrell]
I know
I was there so I seen and I did what you up to
I know you're chasing the paper (my nigga)
I know that scared but it's there and the girls wanna f*ck you
I know you're chasing that paper (you're chasing that paper)

[Verse 2: Curren$y]
I know what that it is
All I wanted was some rims
I had a couple girls
But I knew if I had some chrome, I could multiply them hoes by ten
Materialistic them bitches is kinda hypocritical though my nigga
Because we play the same games wit 'em
Guilty of it f*ck it though
I'm lane switching with no roof like a house when a tornado hit it
No kidding this world ain't Disney
These characters is after your pennies
Stack up can't go far with the dealings
Pimpin, back up, look at the whole picture and then see if it add up
I ain't no mathematician but I can count
On the jets fetching a very large amount
Racks on, racks on racks
Stretch marks on my account
I know how you feel I'm still feeling it now

[Hook: Pharrell]

[Outro: Curren$y x2]
Eyes low but I'm still watching outsiders
Baby girl know that she rolling with a rida
Money on my mind yeah that shit is inside us
I'm up all night chasing paper (paper)

[Hook: Pharrell]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SHANTE SCOTT FRANKLIN, STAN VINCENT, PHARRELL WILLIAMS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Thats The Thing

Baby, oooh
I keep on coming back oh back to you
baby, oooh
I keep on coming back

[Curren$y: Verse 1]
uh from day 1 been down to ride every second since then been by my side
broken hearted from the lies often she cried but holding on to love for dear life
cause when everything is good we'll have a greater time
but fall out over something ever few months down the line
see clearly love is blind cause we can't see a way out this nor reach a compromise honestly I'm not trying
cause I want to be with you but they calling me outside and I'm like how can a man choose
I wish you'd understand if them other ones ain't you I really just be playing
might smash up and be through but my heart still in ya hands
and I promise that's the truth and I hear what you be saying
and I feel your point of view but somewhere I forget that shit get caught up in the loop
late night speeding them coupes I'd respect it if you left me but I'm glad you never do.

[Estelle: Chorus]
See here's the thing I won't sit here broken hearted
boy we gon get back where we started
cause I won't leave you no I gave too much to lose
ooh I've already [?] you
but there's nothing left but just us two
you're everything yeah see that's the thing yeah that's the thing

[Curren$y: Verse 2]
and I don't fall asleep next to none of them hoes
no matter what's popping I be sure to make it home
that's no excuse for wilding I'm just making sure It's known
cause I'm actually not doing half of what I could be doing
I'm slowing down tryna make improvements
thinking bout the future and shit
that one cohesive unit raise a lil princess or junior
soon as I make enough with this music
this dream got my attention love be patient as I pursue it
it'll benefit the both of us if you could just sit through it
when it's all said and done we will have built a thing of beauty
and sailed into the setting sun but I already know
that you done heard this like like a thousand times before
and I done prolly said it like a million times mo'
but I'm being sincere I see us winning and we almost there

[Estelle: Chorus]

[Estelle: Bridge]
Since we met you want to go with me
and we connect like we're supposed to be
I'm all yours all yours all day
and I confess I'm gonna [?]
cause I can [?] so I can tough it out
I'm all yours all yours all day

[Estelle: Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ERIK ORTIZ, KEVIN CROWE, ESTELLE SWARAY, SHANTE FRANKLIN, KENNETH BARTOLOMEI
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group




Chandelier

[Intro: Curren$y]
Out here there are no stars
Out here we are stoned

[Hook 1]
Chandeliers in the ceiling
Remind her of the time, that she was dealing with a
Nigga on the grind, trying to get a billion
Sacrificing time, to spend with all his women
But still he tried

Chandeliers in the ceiling, remind her of the time
That she was ridin' with me, I'm always on her mind
But I be on my mission she smile and she cry
Any time she see him....

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Shorty had her own money
Everytime she came through she brung it
Didn't want nothing from me, but for me to kick it
Play the cut, be the make-believe husband
Couldn't stomach the fact that I was always running
In and out out of them streets, in and out them freaks
And I didn't hide nothing, from her I was a hundred
That's why she couldn't leave, I kept it way too G
Her family in her ear, advising her that she should be
With a doctor, a lawyer, someone with a degree
But she wanted no pointers, was happiest with me
Nightlife cruising something in a spoiler with two seats
Making real jet movements, this lifestyle wild, these hoes attached to it
I f*cked up, she say f*ck me and then she really do it
Living this life is foolish, so I rather let you slide
Even though I hate to do it

Real life situations....out here there are no stars....

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Curren$y]
From the pages of the fashion magazine
To Twitter, to plane tickets to get her here with me
Lying to them other guys, but keeping it sincere with me
At least that's what she wish that I believe
Boomerang style, right outta the silver screen
Same player ways as mine, dog attitude with a feline
Simple real nigga made a bee line, hard to shine like he shine
But when I was off on the grind, laid with lesser niggas in the meantime
Double standard rules apply
You can't do what a man do
He don't look good in the streets' eyes
And they watchin' the people, lookin' for signs of weakness
Makin' moves with a floozy, you'll be lookin' like a sizzimp
And the vultures out to eat them, and I can't be in that number
So it's on the late night f*ck news, can't be seen in the public
By then she always fussin, and I ain't got the time
So I have to let her slide, she think about me when she high

Real life situations...just got those from looking through my phone..

[Hook x2]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ERNEST ANTHONY PRICE, SHANTE FRANKLIN
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group




Fast Cars Faster Women

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Lately I been, thinking 'bout GT3's
Chrome rims, South Beach in the middle of the street
Not parked ain't trippin' I'll accept them lil' penalties when I get 'em
If the papers wasn't so thick, I probably roll the joint in the middle of 'em
Fool ain't know Spitta just inclined to go and get it
We all like the new Benz, I just got mine a lil' bit quicker
A glimpse into this Jet living as fast cars faster women
I would've been mega-pimping, I ain't have the time to put in it
Though I still mack official minus the stripes and the whistle
That's cold game deliver Direct TV Sunday ticket
Suckas can't be down so they just be mad with us
We don't drink or smoke our hash with them ass kissers
You gotta be your own man 'fore I ever call you mister
They gon' have to call me billionaire Jet this year

[Hook: Curren$y x2]
Still on my hustle, bitches still love him
Big block Chevy motor running, you can hear him coming
Yea focused on money, keep them numbers doubling
If it ain't about amounts then it ain't about nothing

[Verse 2: Daz Dillinger]
I begin my day off with a half ounce
Clocked in on that cash route, bust you in yo' damn mouth
Million pounds of vegetation, semi-auto registration
Built millions off being patient, clutch in, no hesitation
I roll by, I shake the ground with my presence
Bitches scream my name, you tell yo' nigga yea I said it
Run and tell a message, motherf*ckas keep up gossip
You see more money more problems, you tell me how a nigga solve 'em
(See I can't call it, I stay balling, never falling off
You still a pussy ass nigga if your heart is soft)
You pay the cost, point seen, money lost, taking off
In that Jet Life, kill you quick and see you in the next life
See I'm forever paid, rollie Gazelle shades
I got it made, cloud to smoke, you know a nigga dazed
(See that's the motto that I live by
Currency, you know that m-o-n-e-e-y)

[Hook x2]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Delmar Drew Arnaud, Shante Franklin
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Jet Life

[Hook: Big Krit (2x)]
Don't miss this jet ho
Don't miss this jet ho
Don't miss this jet ho
Don't miss this jet ho
Talking jet life to the next life
Jet life to the next life
Jet life to the next life
Jet life to the next life

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Club couches, gold digging hoes hounding
Wishing to wake up in one of our houses
'Cause we got it, they want it, high end shopping on Rodeo
Bags, boxes being carried, they wishing we was married
Yacht party, I suggested she wear no socks with her Sperrys
Choppin vulgar and proper over vodka and cranberry
She wasn't offended, she was all the way with it
Said she rolling with me 'cause she know I'm going for the millions

[Hook (2x)]

[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
Let's go, hold it in and don't let go
Diamonds frozen up, pockets swollen up
I been rolling up since I was old enough
Niggas wanna talk about us, nigga what about timing
Niggas wanna talk about luck, nigga what about grinding
I'm baking wherever I want, I'm paid so my trunk in the front
Make in a day what you make in a month
Got a lot of cash so a nigga gon' stunt
Spend it on grass, Spitta rolling one up
Yea we live fast but the main thing is trust
TGOD, keep gin in a cup, get in where you fit in, I'm winning

[Hook (2x)]

[Verse 3: Curren$y]
Twisting up sour, living in a tower
In a double S Impala, horse power
Girls follow, recognize and seek guidance on counting dollars
High on top a money mountain, never coming down it
Looking for a G, capital, well you found it
Green back, stacks, overseas his accounts is
She know all about it, mama ain't stupid
She know this her time and she about to choose him

[Hook (2x)]

[Outro: Curren$y]
Bitches who tryna move up be quick to choose us
Wanna run with us, well you gotta lose them losers

Bitches who tryna move up be quick to choose us
Wanna run with us, first you gotta lose them losers
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CAMERON THOMAZ, JUSTIN LEWIS SCOTT, SHANTE FRANKLIN
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management




Audio Dope III

What car chases are made of
Get high, give motherf*ckers what they came for
On sight appraisal
You ain't worth shit streaks on newspaper
Square fruity ass nigga you a now and later
Can't do me shit you just like to say it huh?
Harmless, water baloon bomb threats
My rain supreme I got your main bitch wet
Step the f*ck off homeboy you lost it
See fathers be sons by my bossness
Jet life front office
Hand orders down to my sergeant
Motherf*cker we the army
Better yet the navy, air force assault team
Game to be sold holla at me for consulting
Success resulting from whatever I invest myself in
I come up like gull wings
From this high up yo big plans look like small things
Could you please land my plane in New Orleans
I got the ref in my crib cause I'm balling
My bitch cook every night but I rap like I'm starving
Effortless progression
Like that moving sidewalk thing in the airport
Motherf*ck that, teleport he was last in the park scene
In a pair of polo chino's and sum white gold rosary beads
Feeding pigeons bread crust and saltines
Laying low, highly enlightened though
Pinning these quotes
Audio Dope
Steady giving these suckas rope
Audio Dope
Steady giving real people hope
Audio Dope
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DAVID ANTHONY WILLIS, SHANTE FRANKLIN
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group




One More Time

Stones, stoned
Immaculate
Stoned
Jet life, jet life, jet life

No sweaters in better, bitch bring it on
Stacked enough cheddar to change the weather love, where we goin'?
Land into them coupes with the fine leather, 6 figure gas pedals
I got these broads under pressure, cause they been knowin'
See that nigga there? Year after year he top scorin'
How you want it? Them lears or them 7-87 boeings?
Wutchu doin'? Them roadsters tourin' editions with the tops on 'em
One thing's fo' sho, them JLR boys be quick to drop on 'em
No hot soup for em', without warnin'
Either a nigga hella high, touchin' the clouds or the sky fallin'
I do this for my league money niggas and my home boys who not ballin'
Trill bitches know that I keep me a fifty tucked in my sock for em'
Roll up, hot box the Caprice out, make the block fog
Let 'em out, get back on my paper route, stack house
Keep that shit bumpin' like a drive-through crack house
Rap hustlin' she wait for em', to come inside, so I could smash out

Love,roll the weed up, let your head down, shut the blinds
Cut the music up, wait, turn around one more, turn
Wait, turn around one more, turn
Let your head down, shut the blinds
Wait, turn around one more, turn
Put your head down, shut the blinds
Couple years ago one, turn around
Put your head down, shut the blinds
Couple years ago wait, turn around, one more, turn
Wait up, let your head down, shut the blinds
Cut the music up, wait, turn around one more, turn

Roll the weed up, let your head down, shut the blinds
Cut the music up, wait, turn around one more, turn
Love

Roll the weed up, let your head down, shut the blinds
Cut the music up, wait, turn around one more, turn
Love

Jet life, jet life
Love
Jet life, jet life
Love

Shut the blinds
One more time
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




J.L.R.

[Intro]
'Fore I left up my house
I kill it while I'm on the
Ehm, life
F*ck are you takin' me for?
One of you sucker niggas who forget the set when he blow
Thou shalt not rest until I make my whole fam rich

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Uh, my shift on the flo
My top in the trunk homie, my phone in the dunk
Finishin' up a jurnt, had it almost rolled
'Fore I left out my house, I kill it while I'm on the road
On the way to your girl house, you don't know that's mine
Smashed out at my homie crib, as far as it goes
Snatch the shower, change clothes, back to the same old
Triple OG Gang, the furricane goes
Keeping everything the same, word to what I drove
Double S Impala bubble on the stock chromes
Opportunity came knockin' but I wasn't home
I was at opportunity house, takin' the valuables out
Like f*ck that, we want it now
This is jet life, my niggas is buying stocks
Like f*ck that, we want it now
This is jet life, my god sons want drops

[Hook]
The f*ck you thought this was dawg?
We them illest motherf*ckers after all
We'll have this whole world changed by tomorrow
J.L.R

Like the f*ck you thought this was dawg?
We them endless motherf*ckers after all
We'll have this whole world changed by tomorrow
J.L.R

[Verse 2: Young Roddy]
J.L.R
Aye what they thought this was dawg?
We them endless motherf*ckers after all
We'll have this whole world changed by tomorrow
Nigga I'm 'bout to make it
I told 'em hoes I was gonna be ballin'
Like the shot off that glass, uh I caused it
They talkin' 'bout all my camp, nigga beg your pardon
I ain't never had no foreign whip but I had a foreign bitch
Chasin' juvenile like in the trip
And we all don't get no chance like this
So I'm goin' in, I'll try my best to dodge them pigs
Tried my best to dodge that pig
If I could I'd do it again
Money racks they spend, I do it big
Check my paw prints, got the skills to pay my rent
Got enough game to take your bitch, girl be f*ckin' me big
My jersey numba and my main bitch
Be a 10, that's some playa shit
But where we from only strong win, and thats J.L.R
Yea yea yea

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Smoke DZA]
Rrriiight, the f*ck you thought this was dawg
We them illest motherf*ckers after all
Have this whole world changed by tomorrow
I'll be the young high fellow, fly mellow
Straight from the ghetto, illest nigga out the triborough
And I'm the newest member of the jet life team
And i'mma bring my nigga Phelps mad more cream
Lo galore, kill these niggas looks fo' sha
Out to take 'em back with us, we took 'em before
Ah, Kushed god, hear my scriptures
Know you see me in the Mag posing like Tazz in my picture
Rugby's on the bed, rugby's on the wall, rugby's on the floor
Mirror, mirror, still the freshest of them all
I feel you bro, now them bitches think I'm ballin'
So they be actin' differently when I be up in Harlem

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Lost In The Bossness

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Uh, Circle of bosses, Bear skin rug my magic carpet
Broads dissapear off, Tits thighs so soft
Ain't nah nigga touch, Unless he acceptin the charges
Except for ya mans from New Orleans
Them broads is smart enough to know
That he a pro, And for G he never fallin
So f*ck em for a good time, Then fall the f*ck off
For he push you off, Because he on his grind
Rollie never set for quality time

[Hook: Curren$y]
Grown ass women, And little girl games
Thinking that rap is all the same
Think a phat ass gone buy her house....
And it probably will from one of these lames
Sex for checks is the name of they game
But wit the jets you dont go that route
They get lost in the bossness, And all turned around
They get lost in the bossness, If they can't swim the drown
They get lost in the bossness, Watchu bitches gon do now
They get lost in the bossness, Can't go back to f*ckin wit them clowns
Because you lost in the....

[Verse 2: Trademark]
Blazin 50's, So back like out the T tops and vibe wit me
Of course wit me, Some broads and a ounce of this new sticky
The whip cloudy, my clothes crispy
Ridien through the city geting high wit my pretty bittie
My game to much for her really, I got her hook on she silly
I'm high, Foucused on millies
She high, Foucused and willin
To do anything I tell her, she does it because im winning
No simpin, Alive and high, Up and living

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Young Roddy]
A good girl gone bad, I seen it all before
Whats worse is that I might be the blame for it though
Shut your mouth that ain't the normal knock at that door
Might be them folks, You betta learn quickly how we roll
Case closed, Add more to my bank roll
She know how this game go, Its cold so we smoke it by the O
You try to keep up not even close
Girl my countin never fold, F*ck you take me for
This one of the trillest shit I ever wrote
Jet Life, Jets Go

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Off Dat

I'm high and my home girl tryna kick it
Like two ninjas getting new slippers on Christmas
In a craddle of wrapping paper I was born gifted
A grounded person though a nigga all kind lifted
I'm on the road I done seen all kinda bitches, when I come home
My girl acting all kinda suspicious, but won't leave me 'lone
All she want is a little attention, is that so wrong?
So I said I be back in a minute but she know I won't
I'm partially caught up in the game
My name constantly being brought up, they throwin slangs
These hoes putting me under the scope, that's aim
I know I reverse that, she going in her purse church mane
I'm throwback I take it where it was at first mane
That live nigga rap, Wings on that B
I'm sitting in the back, I got your bitch mine
Her head in my lap, I'm twisting up that lime

My chain way heavy, my weed way smelly
Wood wheels in my Chevy, ain't shit that you can tell me
I'm counting up my fetti, I'm ignoring my celly
Them hoes all on me, but I'm off that already now

We can take it back to Air Max 95, if you wan start acting like you live
Jive asses was never outside, I seen it first hand
Minimal dirt on my fingers was the game plan
Now it's ten thousand dollar bank bands, Jet Life it pays man
Underground rap, put a big house on top that land
They said I wouldn't do it now they understand that I had already done it
Coulda been a super radio smash, but I didn't want it
I rather play the cut stay 100, papered up in a opera house
Sneaking bong hits until they put us out

My chain way heavy, my weed way smelly
Wood wheels in my Chevy, ain't shit that you can tell me
I'm counting up my fetti, I'm ignoring my celly
Them hoes all on me, but I'm off that already now
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Legal Crack

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
OG Daytons not them Eagle wires
Can't be compared to them Fisher-Price riders
Blowing endo smoke in the face of outsiders
I remember being broke, I did not like it
Now we all on top, this shit lopsided
In the presence of G's, baby can't hide it
She finna cheat, it's already been decided
Before even our eyes met she was familiar with my concepts
We were each other's conquest, or so I guessed
I get dressed and back on my business
Discussing Jets on those, in my chillin' clothes
But in my grind mode, really though

[Hook: Curren$y]
Making my rounds, riding my 'Lac
Checking my traps, counting my cheese
Ducking these rats, watching my back
F*ck the police, after my scratch
Got it from rap
Would you believe this legal crack? [x2]

[Verse 2: Curren$y]
We ain't never gon' die, homes
Too motherf*cking live for 'em
Rap task force, got eyes on 'em
Only thing catching cases is my iPhone
See my eyes low, it's safe to say I'm stoned
Reefer through your speakers any song that I'm on
Riding Caddy Biarritz, my bitch know daddy the shit
I get it, stash it, and spin it, light up and do it again

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Fiend]
Yeah, legal doses of cooked up coke up out my notebook
Before that chronic tree you slung that dope or you made that coke cook
Soft or hard, white or tan, smoke the green
Cornbread right out the pan
Jet Life stamp so you know you're paying
It's twenty-two thou, gotta count it again?
From the city where they yelling like (F*ck police!)
No man's safe on no-man's-street
Them boys been crazy they don't smoke no geeks
It's Jones baby better get your freaks
Five hundred horses
Mind driftin' on Porsche shit
Pound your Z, five hundred-thousand, that's gorgeous
Married to the game so why would I ever divorce it?
Hoops and in-n-out combos
Contraband to my clientfolk
Ladies catch feelings and you know the rest of the motto
Aqua flow so underwater, Loius Vouitton goggles
I drop it up and drive, time to thug light my hydro

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Back to: Curren$y


The Stoned Immaculate is the sixth studio album by American hip hop recording artist Curren$y. It was released through Warner Bros. Records on June 5, 2012.

This release was his first "major" release through Warner Bros. The album features guest appearances from Pharrell, Wiz Khalifa, Estelle, 2 Chainz, Wale, Marsha Ambrosius, Daz Dillinger, Big K.R.I.T., Fiend, Corner Boy P, Young Roddy, Trademark da Skydiver, and Smoke DZA.
Genre(s): Hip hop
Producer(s): Pharrell, J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League, Bink!, Big K.R.I.T., Daz Dillinger, Sean C & LV, Rashad Thomas, Tone P, Monsta Beatz, The Youngstars, The Innovatorz, The Futuristiks, Rahki, Cardo, Butcher Brown
Length: 84:38
Released: June 5th, 2012
Year: 2012

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