This is a song about "Shooting people kicking back with the homies"

On the couch with my homies, watching comedy central with a cold soda

Alright take me on, i wouldn't do that my gramma could beat you with a

That's why they kick with homies, what? back in new york,

Nigga cue me in i'm a peruvian drug lord

Just thanking the holy fatherhe made a star and shita youngin still ain't die

The ball in my fingers. i be shooting threes outside all day with my hittas and i

The ball in my fingers. i be shooting threes outside all day with my hittas and i

Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bangsniffed a lot of flowers, but how could i cry

It's blacc friday and i'm glad to be black

Or knowing that my homies got my back

Still lay low between the treble and the bass though

My homies in the back screaming "b.i.n.g.o

Chat up your lookin off your knee pad

Seriously, just, kicking back

Caus i've been kicking back kicking hackey sack till i hit that sack/

A bunch of fucking wolves and rats having niggers the size of shaq