This is a song about "Prosses of cellular respiration"

Instead of living this life of violent crime

Doing the moonwalk, hoping i blow up in time

Beaches of normandy.

It ain't hard to make money

Lights please, lights please

Top of my pile of bodies

But everybody is a g with the weed in them

Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon

Calling bitches up on my cellular phone,

Say what you want i'm immature like roger go home

Album: smoothsong: playa young thugs

Of potential cases

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Heath ledger said the nights gonna be dark

Your last man was semi pro

Return of the king of flow