This is a song about "Flahh in the pan"

Me and you i think we should ride

In the face of the outside.

And bang a rang to peter pan

Money long from here to japan

I said boss and i meant that; advance, you spent that

Spit rounds gotchu dancing prancing peter pan type shit

I got masterplans for haters toss em in the fryin pan

Bitch i'm in the fucking mall, with my niggas eating ham

He's in the books he's in the cites

When i get my hands on nines

Everybody wasted faded, faded

A dead-pan soul attributed to this kid/

Guns in the waistband, blunts in the pocket

And tired of his shit and tries to just split

Now you go hit me like this with a frying pan

*cough cough*, that's some potent shit oh there go police man