This is a song about "Farting through a door into a bag of pillow shaped cell phones that were calling barack obama"

My city, growl with me, hootie hoo'ing through the night sky

Barack obama comin' this way, he eats all the pie

Left out to dry like a big bag of buds,

Hit strip clubs find bitches with big butts

Sometimes you buy the ring, with no problems you will love

I got a lot of plans that were in itself master pieces

And dream bout you get into your heart core , with a thorn open a door

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for

And your bars is soft like a pillow

Like a nigga movin' kilo

On a pillow for the rest of the fuckin day

Young peyton don't huddle, still run my play

Apologizing for my actions, sometimes i get bored

Smash into your four-by-four door ford in a honda accord,

I pick up a spoon and walk through the living room door

The money gets closer when you seem to be grindin' more