[Verse 1]
Yeah
Line the garbage can up with them raps cause you trash
Ass shots
Rhymes like that on the wrong block could get your ass shot
I'm from the era, my big homie had the 8 ball letters
I had the Polo golf sweater
Long sleeves and shorts go together
Argyle socks, kicks may vary
My selection too motherfucking heavy
Baby had the slip on Vans she slipped into my Chevy
Outside when I arrived she was already ready
We riding 'round high, with fetti on our minds
Her mind just like mine, we got dollar sign eyes
She want ride, I drew a map to the treasure
Money beyond measure, put our hustle together
Betray me never my hoes gon' have to watch us ball forever
My new bitch so bad my other ones want me to share her
9-11 Porsche Carrera floating like a ferry
Out in Napa Valley drinking wine and smoking cherry
Yeah
One time for my home boy Berner
Jet Life, Jet Life
Weed and Instrumentals 3