It's the ambassador, of weps massacre.
Preserved with my chest pumped out like I just walked out of Attica, swerve
Homie, I ain't mad at ya
Do what you do

Sick of them tight ass jeans, but I don't want to bat at ya
Stay in my lane, me and fame, the antidote
And oh gee, damn, double visions of Earl Manigo

Not just a hot song, not just a sick quote
Not just your local shit, not just above go, MO