This is a song about "Torqauy weed beers mates superseedy"

Chilling with my mates but i dont give a fuck about rotations

Well if its phony your only cause i can get you ins

Put up and smoke that weed,

From the back seat, back seat

Outstanding clout, what up greg street

"kill this nigga, guns and weed"

I see the devil grinning, as if he winning

But i'm sitting here downing beers simply just wishing

Sweet jesus, where's the weed

Swear i will murk any beat

For the occasion, paper planes

I'm rapping for my mates

Charcoal seats gray, drop tops like release dates

My so called mates all turned to snakes

And grab me and the crew a few slabs of beers

I’m so fly i don’t even got wings