This is a song about "Wings of paris"

That shoebox shit, over with

But my niggaz in paris

No one in comparison, i got a hun in paris son.

Its soo-woo season and shawty dick teasin' now for that reason

Have you with professional killas, chasing hits

And when i die, i won’t forget i had my wings

Cry, because inside, god didn't give them their wings to fly,

Tried to warn the little nigga either stop or die

It's no drought were i be, bitch no police, here's fire wings

Black on black nikes that represent the lifeless lives

Flying around, wings flapping/

Money ain't a thing

Ride presidential got me feeling like obama

Got my niggas in paris and they going gorillas, huh

My philosophy is rocks and weed, a partna lean, the glock will squeeze

The flight of wings left and right it speeds mightily so free in living legacies