This is the fruit of our hard work
The belief in the entrepreneur spirit
The new American dream
A toast
A toast to my family, life, till death

Uh, I wrote this sitting in the back
Of that triple black with the picnic tables
Twisting up a sack, my Cuban link cables prove I'm in the majors
A prime time playa', high quality rhymes
Earn these wages allowing me to make wagers double your life savings
We on yacht's waving
Champagne cases, cocaine traces found
Seeping from the speakers when the bass kick
Hella baked dropping these tapes, raking cakes in
Millions my nigga, keep that under like the basement
Engine running on that spaceship
She sexy like a woman, speeding like a bullet, don't pull up to it
I bet you want race it, I went to class with a craftsman who made this
Upper class shit, fresher than mince
At the event, I'm a king, sonning these rappers, I make you a prince
New Jet City, ya
Uh, to stand in front this money train doesn't make sense
I never hustled with no lame's, why would I begin?
I'm surviving in the game where many don't win
But loser ain't my name mane', that's one of them
I'm gripping woodgrain, got a journal full of shrimp
Listening to Max B, wishing he was free
But he not, so we smoke a whole ounce for Gang Green
Jet Life motherfucker we the A-Team
No van that's a Lamb, lift them wings
There's a difference between a plan and a scheme
Make sure your crew all true to the same things
New Jet City