Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Jet Lag’ by A$AP Ferg. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of A$AP Ferg or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
yeah, uh
yeah (yeah)
Sit leaned back (woo), got a lot of chips (yeah)
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a bitch (right)
Celine bag (woo), got a lot of drip (yeah)
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a bitch (that’s right)
Sit leaned back (right), got a lot of chips (yeah)
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a bitch (woo)
Celine bag (yeah), got a lot of drip (that’s right)
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a (grr)
yeah
Uh, yeah
that’s right
Hoot hoot, damn
Rollin’ down the window, got two Asians with me (yeah)
Livin’ a fast life, my uncle prayin’ for me (that’s right)
People losin’ in this game, this shit is fatal to me (yeah)
See them turnin’ on they brothers, shit like Fredo to me (woo)
I just pulled up in the Benz and I’m feelin’ like the goat (yeah)
I just woke up on your bitch, I pick ’em eeny, miny, moe (that’s right)
I got chips with a lot of drip, comin’ by the load (yeah)
Prada trench, too legit, thirty-thousand dollar coat (grr)
Tiffany give me diamonds, that’s a different kind of glow (yeah)
Got bitches like Frankie Lymon, that’s a different kind of ho (that’s right)
Came a long way, used to try to work at Club Monaco (Hoo)
Hittin’ the stage, covered in sauce, hundred-thousand dollar show (hey)
Goin’ guerrilla, Fergie Ferg that nigga, count my checks (hey)
She on a nigga, wanna get up in my chinchilla flaps (hey)
Her ass is realest, she ain’t got no silicone up in her breasts
I was born to do this shit, I see my dad up in the light (yeah)
Sit leaned back, got a lot of chips
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a bitch
Celine bag, got a lot of drip
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a bitch
Sit leaned back, got a lot of chips
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a bitch
Celine bag, got a lot of drip
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a
Made a lot of millions off a plain Jane (yeah)
Pen and Billy on the track, we do the same thing (right)
Rose gold, pink diamonds in my ring-ring (yeah)
Got a bitch from Crenshaw and she gang bang (that’s right)
Blood walkin’ and she listenin’ to YG (YG)
She scream, “I dare a motherfucka try stop me!” (try to stop)
She a ghetto bitch, I f*ck her in Versace (in Versace)
And then I took her to Felipe for shrimp and broccoli (shrimp and broccoli)
Put in work, a nigga lookin’ awky (grr)
Diamonds blingin’ called me niggarachi (yeah)
Niggas wanna, but they cannot copy (cannot copy)
I paint the biggest picture but they try to crop me (cannot crop me)
I’m on a newer level, high-key (yeah)
Still be walkin’ through your block to get a chopped cheese (C’mon)
Turn a Honda to a Masi’ (yeah)
You my son, my baby boy, go get Taraji (hoot hoot, grr)
Sit leaned back, got a lot of chips
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a bitch
Celine bag, got a lot of drip
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a bitch
Sit leaned back, got a lot of chips
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a bitch
Celine bag, got a lot of drip
Got jet lag ’cause I’m flyer than a