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Past The Mic Lyrics

Hitman & Jet 2 Past The Mic

[Verse 1]
[Jet 2]
Rockin' in the city of the lost angels
I'mma ball, this is all on my mind
All I need is a shot, kinda far from a crime
Searchin' for my other half to these rhymes
I'mma know when it's time so, I'mma keep it cool

Keep it cool like my Ciroc and ice cubes
I'm like f..ck what you heard, though it's all true
Runnin' game in my fits, a law-suit
Don't get lost boo

[Jet 2]
Cause at this time, you ain't far from a stick up
Been doin' this music feelin' far from a deal
Gettin' closer to a dealer (dilla), not J from Slum Village
Been tryin' to fund this shit, it's what happens when your funds' missin'
Gotta get it

Yeah, gotta get it 'fo someobody come up missin'
Make me wanna go harder thinkin' 'bout my children
And you niggas is faker than all my children
You're all my children, yeah

[Jet 2]
While I'm in the buildin', I realize they're surprised
I give an ill grin... Not because I'm sick though
Because I notice my clique go harder than a part of wood, right?
Premonition past the mic, yeah

[Hook: Jet 2 & Brittney Jaii]
Yeah, this is past life, before we touched the mic
Before we knew what we had, right?
Before we even met and got to feel what the cash like
Before they even knew that we rap, right?
This here is that life
Before, I-"imma Be," I-I-"Imma be"
(Just pass the mic 3x)
Pass it over here, y'all

[Verse 2]
Okay, Hitman's on, brought the swag with that
You're nameless, blame this on me statin' the facts
Rappin' wit' my nigga that got my lyrical back
Now I moved up in Wrekless, some niggas fell off the map
Wrek-City, now yo' nigga missin' a kidney
I'm lookin' Spiffy
All about dollars, a couple fifties, pound sign 'iffy,'
Why my baby momma ain't wit' me?
Cause I'm chillin' wit' different bitches every night
Nigga ooh

[Jet 2]
See this flow'll change her attitude if she's conceited
Back then she didn't believe, but now we're stars and she could see it
Four hundred meter dash on the back stretch, the track's ripped
The irony of buying 'we' is like a black-smith
They bring it home like the anchor, that's the last leg of a relay
Simply cause we got the game on lock like a DJ with a keychain
At the pre-game spinnin' these records that we make

Look, we rap to burn, to cremate
All you niggas who figured to worry about who gay
Touché to go hard, ain't worried 'bout who can't
Me and Jet to blow, get ready for two tanks
Loot, bank, money, money, f..cked over 'til it came
Face... The only time I'll take a dumb brain
The stu' my domain, PT to bang bang
"Come hang" a text from yo' chick's a shame

[Hook: Jet 2 & Brittney Jaii]

[Verse 3]
[Jet 2]
Here we are as one
Finally united like the flight and you're a target

I'm a marksman, my department
Yeah, heavily guarded by some artists
You get set up when I'm fed up
How I turn 'em to plain targets

[Jet 2]
Yeah, Peyton Manning on offense
No longer a Colt, but still ridin' with the horses
Wouldn't get the picture if it's painted in a portrait
I double X-L, now they wonder where my source is

And my Porsche is comin' up like fork-lift
Know where I'm from? Crash courses
Hit abortion, I came out too early
But too early still came with no worries

[Bridge: Brittney Jaii]

[Hook: Jet 2 & Brittney Jaii]

[Outro: Jet 2]

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