This is a song about "Grass"

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

Cuz if i get high of that trash im blastin brain cells and this ass is grass!!!

Im sick of cuttin grass so im chuggin gas

Lord lord forgive us, personality clash

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

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

To the point that you ran out of hope, you were a high grass

My bitches is perfect, i tell 'em boxing for your ass

Till its grass i'm underneath

I'm why baby mommas leave

Smoking so much grass, shit, police, time for me to dash.

So while she up in vip pourin' merlot in the glass

I will fucking beat your ass, box logos through the glass

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