This is a song about "Rockets"

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

Maserati’s my birthright car, pass it, i need another hit

To see me and my chicks in dkny kicks

We blasting off like a team of rockets

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

Bro's got grudges for money its funny they loved me but rushed to the cold

Inked up on my hands and arms, got them jams in my pocket

Explode this like spaceship rockets, all of my patience? lost it,

I shoot all sorts of fat rockets

Been spending most our lives

High as rockets and fly as falcons, i see the better view

Cabo to jamaica every weekend honey moon and you

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

From the palms of jeffrey dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks

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

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