This is a song about "Hit from the bong"

Them out rapping me is like sleeping on the bong call it pipe dreams

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

That's why i get cut like i don't fuck with the coach knees

Pack the bong up with buds and pack the joints with leaf

I like a down-lookin, all for it, flower bomb

She put her lips around the motherfucking hookah bong

Nigga still tired so i'm yawnin, and now i'm gone

She passes the bong, and slowly removes her thong,

Don't gotta wait long

Smack a bong, rip the gong

Why don't i just sit back and be lazy and just light the bong,

Told her that her pastor was a faggot and he likes john

Maine, bay, the burf baby i'mma book ya' flight

Puffin' on the bud, when the bong shinin' bright,