This is a song about "Colin the cone"

Or 5'2" hoopers in light shoes

Saw the bombs on the news

I don't need no fucking throne

Kick back, relax, and pack my own cone.

For the dough you'll be like doe, stuck at home

No remorse stoned on big a dirty slutty cone

But it's still cool just to dream man because

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

The feds introduced the drugs, all the acid, the dope and smack,

Pouring liquor for my niggas that was killed, send em back

The bigger the the fun

They'll have to rename this one

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla