This is a song about "Chillin wit the bros"

Chillin at the crib alone so you know i'm blasting that music

Sixty-two, without no tint; missing roof on my new shit

The world should turn as soon as my records spin

To the homie wit no discretion

Thick legs, big ole jugs legs stick like rims on the truck

We chillin at the park, smokin blunts, dont give a fuck

I was just trippin' and chillin' with winnie the pooh,

Never mind the rumors baby this is me and you

Cougar chillin at the crunch and munch

Aw fuck y'all! ay fuck the judge

I only got a few bros like the ventures

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years

Chillin in the library ayee mr daggs

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

Than hit you wit the ko like ali

Bought a brand new car for my after party