Letra de ' Scottie Pippens (feat. Curren$y & Freddie Gibbs) ' de The Alchemist

Yeah
Yeah
Where haven't we
Jet Life, Jet Life, Jet Life
Jet Life, Jet Life, Jet Life
You should be rollin' up by now
Yeah
Go get your lighters (Ugh)

Showin' no signs of lettin' up
Still kick you in the head like I think you on the verge of gettin' up
No mercy, Cobra Kai, Cobra Commander
Deadly, venom-spitting; niggas just a salamander
I'm living a life worthy of capturing on camera, documented
How one of the last live ones did it
How I rolled up in the drop, how I rolled up that sticky
How I rolled with them women, elegant player, no simpin'
How I fucked 'em to sleep
How I rolled up out the building when I was finished, keep it G
Them niggas not original, they muh'fuckin' House of Mirrors
Not quite the image
I'm on that Popeye spinach, Mama mai-tai sippin'
She love a square nigga, but now, she tryin' somethin' different
Windy City Bulls, Mitchell & Ness wool jackets, some sweats, and Scottie Pippens
My description: High off that fuzzy, green prescription
Lyin' if I sayin' that I isn't; if you lookin' for that nigga, I is him
All eyes in this direction, a burden and a blessing

Yeah, yeah
Ugh
For sure
Jet Life, Jet Life, Jet Life
Jet Life, Jet Life, Jet Life

Ugh, reporting live from the devil's palace (Yeah)
Breakfast, had two titties, two blunts and a turkey-bacon sandwich (Yuh)
Two seasoned eggs and grape jelly, my hoes stay ready (Ugh)
Pop that pussy then peeled off in my Pontiac on Pirellis
'82 edition, spotless Bonnie squattin' on sixes (Ugh)
Rather be countin' stacks than stuck in the county, washin' the dishes (Nah)
Or washing drawers in the pen (Nah); got two zones of soft and some Hen'
I had go pay the correct correctional officer to walk 'em in (On them)
Bail money on deck, come at my neck (Yeah)
Bless that boy 'cause that same place him test is where he slept
I issue eternal rest, sign up and be a subscriber (Yeah)
The price of life got so high that I must make sure I stay higher
Stay with the purp out of pee-zo, stay smackin' these geekers' needles
Stay runnin' the rock just like I play quarterback for the Eagles
Randall, Donovan, or Michael
Fore I picked up this mic, I was hittin' licks with some Lords and did dirt with plenty Disciples
I'm gangbang affiliated (Ugh), federal-investigated, self-educated
All my co-conspirators catchin' cases (Yeah)
I dropped straight out of college, and I majored in home invasion
Believe, I got the balls to clear up all of my altercations
Leave faces with alterations, the closed-casket console (Yeah)
Tryin' to make a million dollars, fuck a million downloads
But if that equal the same, then slice that up and give me my change
I made a lane up in this game so niggas got’ remember the name
Gangsta Gibbs, ho! Two bitches cooking in the crib, ho (Yeah)
Still push a bucket, but I ride it like a Benz, ho (Yeah)
Tryna find a bridge ho, to slangin' raps from slangin' weight (Ugh)
Said that Fred the new-age Brad, bitch, call me Baby Face Killa

Ugh, ugh