This is a song about "My clique"

My wondrous success bombs my regrets

Convertibles with turbo jets

No smilescause ain't a thing funny

That is my wish, my fantasy.

My demeanor, thirty years my senior

"contemplate", i wrote about her

That'll do anything that i please

Conquering you and your lame clique with ease

Think it's sweet, think he get money across the street

But one day they'd be reppin in our clique

It's not a figure of speech when i tell you that i dumped her

My leisure, my pleasure, my light, my love, my measure

Grab my knife and my gun

For those whey no fit dey fix son

Ya can see my, my, my, my kick-off so shout

And i be countin' money till i pass out