This is a song about "Grass"

'09 gold diggers, walkin with a different path

I smoke a fat pound of grass and fall on my ass

Where her shadow cast, when she lands she'll smash like glass into the grass.

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

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

Naw but if there's grass in the field, then just like me,

Whose primary concern is just to hustle and to blaze the grass,

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

E-t-i-h, w's, double d's on her knees

Till its grass i'm underneath

My lazy ass don't blaze the grass and drink whole bottles,

Beaverton my sneaker game although i never be with ducks

Am sick of being stuck for grass

Little light in the ass