This is a song about "Wings of paris"

Got my niggas in paris and they going gorillas, huh

Temperatures drop; see it's cool to shoot a nigga

He wishes he had a pair of wings

And i don't gotta talk about my feelings

With some white dust from wings i crushed back in the knack/ and a rack of spices i pour on top/

They even raped her so we blazed they padautomatic shots rang out, on every block

We talkin' b blockers keep us with deep pockets

And un-tether 'n' treasure your feather wings

Riding that big body, shorty be hitting the curb

It fluttered multicolored wings that suffered

Just hit my cousin up, he's stationed over in paris,

He's in it for the sportrunnin circles round his

We can make more, make babies

But i broke her wings and knees

The chick i have fucked was some whore named paris

Okay i'm trying to hit, something's just gotta give