It's the ambassador, of weps massacre.
Preserved with my chest pumped out
like I just walked out of Attica, swerve.
Homie, I ain't mad at ya.
Do what you do.
Sick of them tight ass jeans,
but I don't want to bat at ya.
Stay in my lane, me and fame, the antidote.
And oh gee, damn, double visions of Earl Manigo.
Not just a hot song, not just a sick quote.
Not just your local shit, not just above go, MO.