This is a song about "Create a class"

Rollin' down the street, smokin' indo, sippin' on gin and juice

Picture this, a little kid, middle class obnoxious youth,

We ain't come for peace, you can bend your knees and pray all day

As a teen was middle class, a bitter ass who pissed away,

Cause we left those class rooms a bit early for lunch

Party with bitches that throw parties too much

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

My ass funky like a cab driver in new york city, pass the class,

We've all got questions to ask, lessons to learn outside a class

So while i hold this bottle of ciroc with a hand full of ass

Unloads a bunch a class tthinking is the ass that pass

That passed on, they in heaven, found peace at last

I smoke the greenest of medicine till the government let us win

So he told his best friend, that he would create a civilization

While i'm rubbing on that ass

Thick lips and a sick class