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Hi-Jackin' Planez

by Sy Ari Da Kid

[Verse 1]
Is it me or I'm tripping? Them folks on my phone
When I talk, I hear echoes in the background, homes
Looked out my window, seen a black Tahoe
Dark tint, two guys, two black suits
They say I'm wanted for third degree swag
Drop twenty in Louis, another thirty in Gucci
Saks Fifth Shawty all I do is shop
Rollie on my left wrist would make a n*gga jaw drop
Brick Squad Monopoly, this is it
The way the girl lockjawing di*k, she's like a f*cking pit
They say life's a b*tch, so I'm fingerf*cking it
With a finger condom on 'cause I don't trust sh*t

[Chorus]
Put your lighters in the air, put your red cups up
Blowing Backwoods back to back, I'm f*cked up
Hijacking planes, three years in the game
Got the money and the fame, but ain't nothing really changed
b*tches on my di*k, cell phone keeps jumping
Police out the window, man, they think a n*gga hustling
I'ma keep grinding, I'ma keep grinding
I'ma keep grinding, I'ma keep grinding

[Verse 2]
You want me for a feature? That's one brick
Shows going for two bricks, told her snort it off my di*k
All I know is grind, go get it with it
You can tell we them bangers soon as I pulled down the brim
Where I'm from, n*ggas rob their kin
You can't even trust a b*tch or your best friend
Riverdale, n*gga, this like Compton
Our pistols always barking, my n*gga, we get it popping
You can feel the tension soon as I walk in the building
'Rarri sit low to the Earth, call it caterpilling
I'ma keep it grinding, n*gga, don't stop
In this industry, lames get all the credit

[Chorus]
Put your lighters in the air, put your red cups up
Blowing Backwoods back to back, I'm f*cked up
Hijacking planes, three years in the game
Got the money and the fame, but ain't nothing really changed
b*tches on my di*k, cell phone keeps jumping
Police out the window, man, they think a n*gga hustlinh
I'ma keep grinding, I'ma keep grinding
I'ma keep grinding, I'ma keep grinding

[Verse 3]
I don't care 'bout no "he say, she say"
Chase this money, love dineros like my f*cking DJ
Lap full of weed, riding on the freeway
Y'all n*ggas industry, I do this sh*t the G way
I'm a boss, pus*y n*gga, 'bout that gun play
Self-made, triple B's, n*gga, all day
Can't do it with the Glock, then get my brother K
All white diamonds on my neck, call it Lisa Raye
I'ma be okay, I don't need too much
Just a red cup and one vanilla Dutch
Put your lighters in the air if you're f*cked up
Flocka give three f*cks, Remy Martin, pour me up

[Chorus]
Put your lighters in the air, put your red cups up
Blowing Backwoods back to back, I'm f*cked up
Hijacking planes, three years in the game
Got the money and the fame, but ain't nothing really changed
b*tches on my di*k, cell phone keeps jumping
Police out the window, man, they think a n*gga hustlinh
I'ma keep grinding, I'ma keep grinding
I'ma keep grinding, I'ma keep grinding

[Outro]
Waka Flocka, n*gga
Ain't no blackballing me, n*gga
Flocka
Grinding, I'ma keep grinding
I'ma keep grinding, f*ck n*gga [?]