J-R3MI - "Air Force 1s"
#JR3MI #AirForce1 #TheCollegeChronicles #AirForce1s #HalfNote
Can't fuck with my Air Force 1s.
Written by Jeremy Barnes. Produced by Half Note.
Track 9 from “The College Chronicles.” Listen to the full album here: • J-R3MI - "The College Chronicles" (Deluxe)...
LYRICS:
(Ah shit, you fucking snapped on this one!)
[Aye, Half Note, where you at, bro?]
(I’m ‘bout to kill this shit. You ain’t ready.)
Verse 1:
Got a bad bitch, and we’re gettin’ faded.
Pull out the laces, Air Force 1s,
Kick off my shoes when she flips her tongue.
Gettin’ head on a bunk bed, I’m so sprung.
I call it high top. Hers low cut.
Her bust hangin’ out like a victim’s guts.
We’re fuckin’ filthy; let’s clean up.
First I gotta get mine; let me cum.
Chorus:
My Air Force 1s,
Man, they crisp as fuck.
I got that white strap on it
And my pistol tucked.
If you try to cop them, you gonna get shot up.
(B-b-b-) back the fuck up before you scuff mine, punk.
Verse 2:
I am a pilot, and I be fly in
The skies just like when
(I’m) droppin’ bombs from a plane up high.
This a dog fight, bitch, and I got that bite.
What I lack in size, I make up with might.
You can knock me down, but I’ll get up fine.
When I’m on mics, they tend to ignite.
It must just be my fuel line. I am going Mach 5.
Too quick. I’m a nuisance.
Got the booth lit. Truth spit.
Droppin’ deuces on these “cool” kids.
Tried to bite my style, got they tooth chipped.
Motherfuckers soft as fuck like cool whip.
Who quit? You did.
Got the beat on blast. Half Note just boosted.
Boom bap rap is back.
No more fuckin’ wack
Shit. If you bring that,
You will get back-hand smacked
By both of my palms with money stacks.
I’ll blast you to the past. In fact, let’s flash
-Back to the time KRS-One attacked.
Don’t skip class, philosophy raps.
Chorus:
My Air Force 1s,
Man, they crisp as fuck.
I got that white strap on it
And my pistol tucked.
If you try to cop them, you gonna get shot up.
(B-b-b-) back the fuck up before you scuff mine, punk.
Verse 3:
I’m an airbender, forceful offender.
One-time cash spender.
I’ll lend my hand to the dark empire.
You my son if you rep Jedi.
The sith are sick as fuck.
When the lightning strike, it’s best to duck.
I’m an avatar of darkness,
Death incarnate. Rip apart this
Fuckin’ harmless bitch who starts shit.
Leave him armless. Shit on Marcus,
Piss on carcass; leave it tarnished.
Say I’m heartless, lack catharsis.
Claim I suck; I’ll win regardless.
I’m a Martian. Earth’s my target, bitch.
Kick up dust; the dirt is mine.
Spit fire on a verse from the very first line.
Drip drop when I rip shop.
This is tip-top hip-hop shit.
Don’t trip on your flip-flops or
Slip on piss with Timbs on. (Nah)
Call me Aang ‘cause I do my thang.
I do not hang with cocaine slangers.
I make bangers. Kurt Cobain.
I am J- ‘cause that’s the name,
With the R3 aM Insane.
I’m off the chain just like Great Danes.
You think I’m playin’, David Blaine.
Acid rain is what I spray,
Live and direct from the brain.
Wack’s exactly what I ain’t.
Chorus:
My Air Force 1s,
Man, they crisp as fuck.
I got that white strap on it
And my pistol tucked.
If you try to cop them, you gonna get shot up.
(B-b-b-) back the fuck up before you scuff mine, punk.