This is a song about "Ad carry"

Flower bomb, matter fact she on that bong

When life is too good to carry on

No more fucking cigarettes lit, no more stupid ass presentations and useless magazine ad bits

But i'm from jers' and we don't play that shitfrom the clare down to north bricks, all my niggas flipping chips

Rap and do the impossible like i can carry air.

And when i'm done with her, ain't no other male to compare

Come on kids, fuck that class and hit that bong

When life is too good to carry on

Six hundred sixty-six, leave it for the tip

Guess i'll just write about it, ad lib

Y'all always on that bs and ps i'm takin all things

Im ad lib bin while the sticking to script like magnets