Supercar hustle

Lyrics

[Intro] Yo This one for the young G’s… Still in class, but the roads look tasty innit you get me

[Verse 1] high school, maths in my head, but the Ferrari my vision Pencil in hand, but I’m thinkin’ 'bout whippin’ that German with precision Bros outside flippin’ packs, no books, just bags full of cash Me? I’m tryna pass tings — but man, that paper don’t stack fast
Mum say study, don’t end up like those street But my bredrins got Jordans and chains and dozens Of notes in hand, while I’m broke as hell Lunch money low, and my kicks don't sell
Dreamin' 'bout dat roof down rarri, matte black plates While man outside got food on crates And I'm in school tryna write this test, But my mind’s on the block with a bulletproof vest

[Hook] I want that Rarri, roof off, full speed But I don’t wanna risk my life or bleed They makin’ Ps off a re-up, mad I’m stuck in class with a busted pad
F**k this homework, fam it’s long But crime ain’t it — shit feels wrong Still, if dreams don’t pay, then what’s the way? Be broke or bang packs every day?

[Verse 2] Look — I ain’t tryna end up in bin like Tray He had dreams too but he threw that away First it was one shot, then two in a bag Now he don’t leave house 'cause the opps want man
My bredrin told me, “This game ain't fair” You eat one week, next week it's air You buy that chain, next man’ll rob it Or feds come through, man lose the profit
I want acres, not ankle tags Want keys to the Rarri, not cells with slags Still I scroll on my phone like, “Damn, that whip…” But I ain't tryna go out in cuffs for shit

[Hook] I want that Rarri, roof off, full speed But I don’t wanna risk my life or bleed They makin’ Ps off a re-up, mad I’m stuck in class with a busted pad
F**k this homework, fam it’s long But crime ain’t it — shit feels wrong Still, if dreams don’t pay, then what’s the way? Be broke or bang packs every day?

[Outro] Now I’m writin’ bars, tryna flip this pain Stack these views, get legit from fame Mic in hand, no food in cling Supercar dreams — yeah, that’s my ting
No feds, no stress, just keys and beats Supercar life from the booth, not streets Still hard, still real, no cap in my lane If I blow, I’m bringin’ my dawgs on planes.

Lets do dis RealiTee, Realitee, Realitee

See you at the top yo