This is a song about "Ripe weed"

Im high as a bitch smokin weed

Yeah i know we never got to meet

Who be puffin that weed

If it's me that catch you, you're fried

Nigga fuck you cracker, i put you six feet

Momma caught me tryna sell some weed

The corn-tops ripe and the old breeze blowin',

Where god at? i need to call him

'' you shall come to your grave in ripe old age,

Magic city a lil bit of change

Ripe and furbished with lies and cries tied in earth's cervix

I put you over my money, all of my nice kicks

Sweet jesus, where's the weed

And 5-0 they work for us, walk the beat

They pluck us before we're ripe

Jungle fever for the night