Hello I'm back in the 208, so what up It's what it is, I'm fucking a bitch She's really got mad tricks when we're rolling in the sheets Never done 'till sun, that's what it is Chicks bat shit, she got some real problems Big fat tits, a masterpiece walking This that shit, you blast the beat often This that kid, perhaps a wiz talking Back kicking in the 406, so what up It's what it is, I'm higher than shit I'm a little out of it, I'm impaired I'm aware that it shows, let it go We them kids, we got some real problems Big fat hits, we smoke that shit often Twist that spliff, and pass that shit puffing This gat spits, who wants a clip of it Busy kicking it, my fellas chilling We sipping the liquor, killing the liver Swift real ridiculously quick And a steady cash flow, check I got it Rubber band stacks stretch, busting out my wallet Want a Benz blacked out, mobbing past opponents Yo these bastards frontin' Dog I'm strapped, who want it Like I said last measure, it'd be my pleasure to pull it Homie tempt me, I'm hoping Molotovs we throwing on it Back home in the 631, all this shit we done Just to get where we come, we spit a little bit like our idols A style I'm starting to do it newishly I groove with it smoothishly, I'm rocking a doozy Musically a dude who's wits truly extraordinary Computability with lyrics ingenious, probably got me a Grammy Cuss so much so watch my mouth slur it This raps sick, who wants to step to it My mind one of the greatest, I ain't too worried to make it Said I "made it" back in '08 when I skated Bust an ollie, psyched out Kids be chasing fame, it's fucking crazy, like wow Most insane that's in the game, I'm fucking taking mics Down, my Jack and Coke it's the weekend Drink that homie down the whole liter Pass that smoke, we rolling up swishers Play some oldies, blaze some yo Big up