This is a song about "We love to get high"

You fumbled in a drill, young man get on the hill

I always get high have tome to kill

We on that high rise/ you betta get a grip

Never letting go, although sometimes i slip

Wipe my eyes until they're dry, then you cuddle me while we get high

And niggas slippin if they think the fucking grip is a lie

Where we gonna get to

Hey mr. coach, i don't like you

Same customer...i hussle to live...i smoke to get by even tho i love this high..

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

I guess it just time to get high, guy

She tell you that's a lie, lie, lie

Cause i've found, you pound people like me to get some love/

And when we on the road, bitches follow the tour bus

Don't fast forward ima serve you some keys

Puffing trees to get me high as trapeze