Passengers for flight New York 711
Are asked to present themselves at gate B (that's me)
A.W.A. the mafia, my nigga

If it's not my hood, it's not the right one
Scented with the hood but I smell the good sh-
Stick in my mouth, irritating my bronchi

Left to come back better, my niggas are fans
You know where to find me, where there's money all year round
Isolated from humans so loneliness every night
You don't know where to find me, solo half the year
When I sit in business class they say "what's the deal"
"VS on his wrist looks like he's someone"
Barely settled in, I'm downing champagne
Stewart I've suffered too much, you need to make me feel good
I don't think anymore, finally I fall asleep
Two hundred thousand, are a million but they don't want me to get out
I bought my ticket in the morning, I land the next morning
All powerful yesterday, the pains you talk too much about

If it's not my hood, it's not the right one
Scented with the hood but I smell the good sh-
Stick in my mouth, irritating my bronchi

No one my age in business class, I fall asleep on the plane
Lots of questions in my head
I isolate myself to find calm as if I'm getting old
Above the clouds, so far from the tar I hope to get closer to God
Left to come back better, eternally unsatisfied
I always have to do better
I have money, I leave France to the French
Few memories, just crumpled bills
The turbulence spills my glass
Third glass of champagne gives me chills
I come, I collect, I don't talk much
Between these two measures I drink the fifth glass
When I go deep in her throat the makeup runs
Not the right one, not the right one if it's not my hood

If it's not my hood, it's not the right one
Scented with the hood but I smell the good sh-
Stick in my mouth, irritating my bronchi

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