Spitfire

I'm a young, 24 year old nigga
 I come to take this game and bring it to me
 We gon' be here
 Ain't no fly by night nigga
 We gon' be here two years, three years
 I got this shit
 Wire taps, y'all some grown liars
 I'm Julius with Cleo betting on my empire
 I'm busy in the jet, like a Spitfire
 Grandiose in the house, looking like Granada
 I'm pops to your daughter's daughter
 Want my head like Pompeii, the Roman rider
 I write you off like a speed infraction
 I'm through with all the talking
 Your misery got bad company
 Fuck all y'all been
 It's A-OK, symbolic
 All the shit I embody
 You might get shot but Johnny's driving nice cars
 Tryna park it, don't you holla if it ain't my Gualla
 Growing up where I'm from, iPhone to get you towed on
 Located in bankroll, my niggas weight the dome
 The shit I've waited for ever since Brenda Song
 Told you that I'd make-make it home, motherfuckers
 This ain't no ball game, mad ruckus
 More like the Rucker, more like Christchurch, mother
 Teresa cash, credit and visas
 Not the car, but the passport feature
 Need the passport if you're riding with the asshole
 Tell her no bags, we shopping on tour, freak
 We make a nice cold week and if you ass caught creeping
 I'm balanced on the poppers, if I stop won't tell who dropping
 I'm topic of discussion when it's who young with the money
 I'm here, motherfuckers
 I hear my name from the bleachers
 But I'm too busy reaching
 Looking up to deceased kings
 Long live the last king, Martin had a dream
 And it's me
 Busy in the jet like a spitfire
 Julius built my empire
 Y'all some grown liars
 Y'all some grown liars
 Busy in the jet like a spitfire
 Julius built my empire
 Y'all some grown liars
 Y'all some grown liars