[Intro]
I thought I'd make a song for everybody that stays out late as fuck
I know everybody has had a late night trip to Napco
Kenneth, hah-hah
Arrii (Arrii)

[Verse]
Late night, kinda high, blowin' Swishers out the ride
Rollin' south, bumpin' down, keepin' cops up out my sight
Got a goofy crew with me and they gettin' kinda giggy
And itty bittty eyes, she can laugh while they screen this
Crazy how these people think I actually could make it
It's a dream I should be chasin' but I'm faced by all these players
All these lame ass rappers goin' HAM up in the studio
Talkin' 'bout their rubber band stacks and all these groupie hoes
Fuck a bunch of money, that's a rappers poor judgement
That's the only thing he's lovin' from an art that goes above it
Everybody's flow different, grab a pad and grab a pencil
Let the paper touch a brain write a really bad ass picture
[?] with a little Mel Gibson
And we got a Lethal Weapon with a rhyming words of wisdom
Yeah, rappin's not a game, it's a [?] part of me
Makin' rap stars only barely touch me partially
I coulda just said hardily, but hardily it's hard to see
When your brain is infected by all the fucking main stream
[?] the main thing when you got a mind to maintain
But you just let your bling hang at the same level as your ding-a-ling
Aw shit, yeah I went there like a million times
Fist fightin' airplanes, yeah I'm that kind of fly
Yeah, I'm that kind of high, THC level 99
Been on that cloud like 90 times
And then I think "Oh where am I?"
I'm rollin' up to Jenny's with a 20 and a 50
Got a bag of munchines in my [?] 'cause I'm feelin' thirsty
Goin' back to Kingston tryna dodge a blue light vision
Waitin' for them handcuffs but I got my composition
'Cause I'm on these lyrical missions, don't ask me for no commission
I'm one of the few rappers don't sound like I'm always bitchin'
And I have no soul, not a problem, not a goon nor a goblin
But I'm a product of what's poppin' on this garbage track
Cock blockin' stoppin' all these gangsta-holics
So only I [?]
They out here poppin' spittin' hot shit
Am I missin' anyone, I'm just spittin' behind mine
Just rollin' Cheech and Chong in a page I ripped from High Times
I ain't even playin', Waldo's hidin' behind my eyes
And I'm spyin' on all these rappers, they ain't seein' from my side
Don't you come to my side, take a whip in my ride
Goofy ass Honda with a busted out taillight
My mom don't give me money like these other little kids
I got a job bustin' tables a Shorties for fuckin' tips
Yeah, got tattoos, gotta wear long sleeves
'Cause to the old folks we ain't nothin' but some creeps
Yeah, but this ain't nothin' but the new age
Same shit they did, we just kick it new ways
Xbox live, freestlyein' and gettin' too blazed
Get pushin' off coastin' like Luepe
Yeah