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Tell the driver to pull my truck up Me and this L.A. woman stumblin' out the club fucked up The Jets my set I so love us Call home to my bitch, I come back after I come up If you got my back mama don?t front If my racks pop a collar, I'll fly you out in a month Droppin' tops, bottle's pop Planes still taxiin', Tarmac mackin' Strawberry diesel rattin' on itself From my carryon bag if you'd like to take a smell Camouflage cargos, tube socks and gray Chucks High all the time the OGs tell me to stay up Being real is a pay cut, or so it was Dipped that chronic light, gray purple L, crystal fuzz Talkin' out her head, it's obvious that Crystal's buzz Clipped her out the rotation, no more weed for her Snap out of it, coach you on how to ball Spitta-time-ginavitch, where the wild things? Muscle cars and where the marijuana is To be half as fine as him is an accomplishment Aus Songtexte Mania