Yeah, we go up, no sky limit, Barbie and the Foreign, beamers stay tinted
Patek flooded like the Atlantic, Queens to the jungle, traffic stay frantic
He said “Top?” I said “Spin it,” 400 on the dash, I’m a business-woman in it
Big booms in the trunk, Fivio go dumb, pop smoke in the sky, we lift up, we won’t come down
Heels on the pedal, crown stay heavy, moon in the rear, that’s a ghost, I’m ready
We go up, up, up—no pause, no cup runnin’ over, just sauce, just us.