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| 1. |
| - | 
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| 2. |
| - |
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| 3. |
| - |
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| 4. |
| - |
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| 5. |
| - |
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| 6. |
| - |
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| 7. |
| 4:07 |
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| 8. |
| - |
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| 9. |
| - |
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| 10. |
| - |
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| 11. |
| - |
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| 12. |
| 3:42 |
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| 13. |
| - |
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| 14. |
| - |
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| 15. |
| - |
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| 16. |
| - |
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| 17. |
| - |
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| 18. |
| - |
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| Disc 2 | ||||||
| 1. |
| 3:26 |
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| 2. |
| - |
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| 3. |
| 3:25 |
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| 4. |
| - |
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| 5. |
| - |
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| 6. |
| - |
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| 7. |
| - |
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| 8. |
| 4:02 |
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| 9. |
| - |
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| 10. |
| 3:38 |
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| 11. |
| - |
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| 12. |
| - |
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| 13. |
| - |
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| 14. |
| - |
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| 15. |
| 3:49 |
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| 16. |
| 3:38 | 
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10..9..8
Ignition sequence start, engines on 5..4..3..2..1 All engines running, launch commence <i>[chorus 2x]</i> I'm high up in the air, I'm feeling the turbulence But when it comes to work, I'm magnificent serving it <i>[Esham]</i> Street lords to my niggas, cheddar boy, clockin' figures Only fuck with the work, just to make my pockets bigger Keep my finger on the trigger, of a AK, Deliver One shot to yo dome, I'll make your whole soul quiver Shiver like the cold winter, like Detroit in December Yo bitch kept beggin me, to put the dick up in her She was riding on it hard, and feeling the turbulence I hit it from the back, but she said I was hurtin it She told me not to cum, right before I was squirtin it I fuckin' get up, right after I do my dirt in it I make the bed rock, but my name a Rita Mosely Whole ki', 36 Oz.'s, a little whoadie <i>[chorus 2x]</i> Reel life's my production, no you niggas aint fuckin' Wit' nothing that I'm doin' I was raised up in the ruins And I'm high up in the air and I'm feeling the turbulence Flying on my magic carpet rockin' a turban, bitch Droppin' bombs on mothafuckers well deserving it Comin through beatin' down the block disturbin' shit Esham possessed, by the sons of Saddam When I go to sleep, I dream about money, power, and bombs Bitch, you better recognize, the boss of the mob Niggas soaking all my game up, like Spongebob Squarepants I don't dance, I boogie, it's true I cut the head off the devil, and I'll throw it at you <i>[chorus 2x]</i> May-day, May-Day, throw the coke out on the runway If the D.E.A. come my way, they gettin' gunplay I'm doin' about 100, the wrong way up the runway I wish it was a Monday, but it was a black Sunday I was high up in the air, and feeling the turbulence Jumpin' out of planes, wit' no parachute, on some bird shit Flying through the air, with the greatest of ease Things fall to they knees, snitches tell the police We be high up in the air, and feelin' the turbulence Floating on the black benz, blowing the purple shit Just like the hood, when the ghetto birds circle it Infrared search light, I just might murk you bitch! <i>[chorus 2x]</i> |
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| 17. |
| - |
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| 18. |
| - |
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| 19. |
| - |
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