This is a song about "Ann arbor"

Sitting on the roof and yell fuck everything

You little niggas little league i'm the real thing

My swag is to the roof

High as shit, i’m in a booth

But a pole position you couldn't hold, not even your own wooden bone

Young money, cash money so strong, keep scorin’, i’ma bring it on home

It's crazy, bitches throwing they pussy

Even if it tends to be about tree

De la soul is from the soul

Weight of the world on up a tent pole

West coast niggas got more roots than a orange tree,

Fur for fur, baby; baby, you'll go stir crazy

Sit on crates on my porch watching with a loaded rifle,

Toffee, pecan, licorice, boy you're so beautiful

And if i give it to you, don't you treat me like them bitches

Cause this grey area i'm so familiar with