This is a song about "Rockets"

For the emcees i'm commencing nine eleven with these rhyming rockets

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks

I see the addict, the alcoholic with golden flask out cold,

Philosopher's stone made into the cylinder turning the rockets to gold,

Two bitches named tiffany i left them with a pair of kids

Breathe in deep for all those long hits, while i spit these bombs like rockets

Dreams riding him on rockets shit in his locket of rhymes from his pocket

And every nigga suddenly be rappin bout that trap shit

I shoot all sorts of fat rockets

So i guess that's where i hide my things

Always keep a rubber, word to telly in kids

I cock block shit, pop and lock it, blow like snot rockets,

We blasting off like a team of rockets

Had i not been exposed to these things

Rockets can't stop me cause i'm north too ill.

This rozay, wale, gunplay, and that nigga pill