Lyrics The Candy Lady's Crib... - Curren$y

Bitches know the planes got it*
Bitches know the planes got it
Bitches know the planes got it
And where havent havent we uhn
Vinnie Johnston get in the game, lay put up points quick microwave
Industry coruption they tryin to point shaves
Dummie down, why, when my audience is just as smart as I
If you saw me, told somebody I bet they thought you were lying
Fly where never in the space I'm in
Never roll round corners that I've been
High driving impalla slams, sparks flickin, trippin, scrapin the off ban,
Fuck it nothin of it my mechanic is the man, and them
Hit em on the jack, the part replace that, asap that's that mothafucker
Like a deffintion, O.GS watch me I'm a flow right out the television
New aero bills reverse sitchin I'll I will re-invent the wheel
Prerequisite, intellagence plus sexiness canidate to be a jet miss
Queen for a day put cha on the foor of the mardi gras parade
High and she smiling wave
Brush up on it, get the rust off your moves my lil poney
Which ya fine ass cold bottle and my grape cool aid and my wine glass
Smokin amsterdam green with my fresh blue number 9's
And my red headed honey from burmease
Lip stick smears, pass port stamps, eyes simease cat lady the trance
Shineing in my Marijuana trance
Bull shit still waiti on me when I get back
Deal with it don't run
Square it up burn down another one
You goin to the candy ladys crib wontcha bring me somthin
Yea, yea, yea jets fool