This is a song about "Cold rocket"

Beat the bitch up and leave faster than a rocket engine

When it come to pistols, these niggas don't john lynch them

I'm on a rocket flyin to the top strap on to me/

Lips, hips, hair drops down her back, crazy, body frame, crazy

Shoot for the moon, rocket-launch for stars/

I'm from a cocaine block, with some plain clothes cops

And california on that jerk shit

Imma cop me a rocket

I'm putting cash in my pockets, so much to tour the world in a rocket,

Come close, catch a contact, i got a loud pack in my cargo pocket

Thats the reason they call me rocket

New soul verses the o.g. it seemed as a hit

Iraqi rocket launcher

And that i spent the night with her

Keep your eyes open, i can only say i'll try

Grab a rocket launcher and blow the cops sky high