I sit way in tha back its just me cole an zack while I'm rollin a bag steady pouring these drinks I keep throwin em back, eyes so low from tha dro havin asthma attacks, sippin lean like a fene I keep stumbling, man I been fumbling, sacked quarterbacks , all these fans they just rappers thats mumblin, an they know it's facts, homie where are we at I asked you a question atleast tell me that, im not fuckin repeating you catchin my draft, I shit in ya face an I'm smearin it round, so you talkin that shit but to me it's a laugh, you can't match these two balls in my hand I keep jugglin, an jumpin wit Jack's, I'm in link wit my crew there is no turning back, don't get tired these tires can never go flat, CG9 they admire ain't givin em slack an I do everything they say I can't, an to tha haters putting both fingers straight in ya face, fuck tha news take tha paper it's straight to tha bank