Lloyd Banks - Automatic Pilot Lyrics

Good morning ladies and gentlemen, you are very welcome to Royal J Flight
In the event of emergency, floor pathway lighting will illuminate exits
As the cabin crew are now demonstrating
In the seat pocket in front of you, you will find the flight safety card
Which we now ask you to read before take-off
Thank you for your attention and we wish you all a pleasant flight

Uh, I put so much work in this game, few thousand days to catch me
Rewards are hoppin' off the plane, Jamaica waves and jet ski
They raised me better, look around, grown men behavin' messy
Me Venice's, De Niro, Pacino, Pesci, nigga
My pockets hefty, Desert Eagle lefty
Respect me, so far ahead, I still be past you if I leave a century
Your demons sent me, Benz or Bimmer Bentley
I got a C-Note USB, and the machine is full of key notes, test me
Long as my niggas from the curbs support me
I'm straight, 'cause swerving's costly, I pin these sixteen's up in purgatory
That punch title does a disservice for me
I'm more than words, that's gordy, here for a reason, that's what the surgeon told me
My younger mackin' got the birds to stalk me
Frequently replicated, my triumph made my other versions salty
Cue the Milwaukee and suburban saucy
On my return, I'm poppin' all the shit, f*ckin' with blue, you lost me nigga

We ain't cut from the normal fabric
Through all the turbulence I'm headed, pilot automatic
They made new sheets for all the static
Gettin' the spot is all that mattered
Don't give a f*ck who had it
My presence got the hoes ecstatic
My haters got a trollin' habit
With signs of panic, you know it's tragic
We ain't cut from the normal fabric (huh?)
Throughout the turbulence, I'm padded (uh), pilot automatic

Yo, every package lost be a backpack, we sent it back across (uh-huh)
Platinum cross, eat in Rao's, like I'm an actin' boss (yes)
Rappers grab a force, niggas outtin' the pass the torch (I know)
That's the sport, food for thought, they wouldn't pass a fort (at all)
Harlem icon, Dhaslam mixed with Dylan (tell 'em)
I spit fire and make coke stretch with my right arm (uh-huh)
So fast, pitchin' 8-balls, should be watered to cyan (uh-huh)
Pelicans get they fly on (uh-huh), definite like they Zion (ha)
You players stop, put money on you like player props
Silence a potato pop, turn this shit into tater tots (uh)
Tryna shake the block, played the block 'til 'round eight o'clock (uh-huh)
See the ones I gave the rock to, well who I paid to watch?
Be the lookouts, council meet at the cookout
Let's get drunk and discuss all the bad bitches we shook out
Chicks the last we took out (ha), candyman the hookout
Niggas ain't hot-hot, just another fire to put out, nigga

We ain't cut from the normal fabric
Through all the turbulence I'm headed, pilot automatic
They made new sheets for all the static
Gettin' the spot is all that mattered
Don't give a f*ck who had it
My presence got the hoes ecstatic
My haters got a trollin' habit
With signs of panic, you know it's tragic (panic)
We ain't cut from the normal fabric (not us)
Throughout the turbulence, I'm padded (careful), pilot automatic

Took out my watch, nice
These niggas play security, they top flight (uh)
Craig and Day Day, I kick it like Pelé, got your mom tight (right)
The time right, some powder in the sky like I'm LeBron knight (what)
Stack that paper 'til it look down on you, like LeBron height (huh)
Black leather jacket, Fonz's type, this is a don's life (don)
Chocolate outsides, leather seats white, look like a Klondike (bing)
This cuban look like shattered glass, remind me of a barfight
Project bitch that answered the phone and know how to talk white (ha)
I caught flights, on the line with Gervonta, we talk fights
I done ran the spots, so it's nothin' for me to walk light (light)
Street fight like vega, sega, I begged my moms for (my mama)
Now I cop Bottega, played Vegas, seen shit that Pac saw (Pac)
I look important, rick owens on me, we on the top floor (you seen me)
Slimin' banks, I'm smokin' this popper, listenin' to Shabbah Ranks
Gallery Department, got me lookin' like I probably paint (paint)
I used to hop the train, now a Celine umbrella block the rain (uh), pop

The guy in Queens, multiple personality dream team
The thousand dollar jean fiend, you cut me now, I bleed green
I made my comeback in the muds, done made it out and squeak clean
I'm lucky to live so long, we learned about the struggle pre-teen
When I come on, the streets scream, a New York City jeep scene
Two-hunnid thousand seat lean, a pound of loud I keep steam
I get the rollout when shoppin', a twenty in receipt king
Call me at all but disloyal, a champion's speed ring
Call the photographers, I make it rain with my deposit wrist
I'm on the populace, turned all my losses to positives
All my heat calls are anonymous, what are the odds of this
I'm goin' be showin' up regardless, make all of 'em hostages
I hoarder body count collages in my closets
You catch me sleep, you see dollar signs through my eyelids
I've been around the world nice, check out my mileage
Without a stylist, merchandise for my pilots, nigga