Im sitting in my car feeling the stress, got my heart all wrapped up like a bullet proof vest, not letting anything go through, got enough scares to remind me where I come from, who would've knew, that life would have different doors to choose and I chose the one with so much struggle trying to climb over every obstacle trying not to stumble. Gatta keep my head up high and my chest out when I walk. Looking at my watch, I guess it's time to get high and lost in this smoke. Pulled out the weed out my pocket, trying to make these feelings taking off like a rocket, Got my homie rolling up a dubbie, Like newbie, I just wanna get so hight in the sky, I don't wanna come down from this flight, why is your homie acting like he knows me. You should send him outside cuz I'm loving this feeling, feeling the clouds as I pushing them side to side so I can make a way so I can go through I dont wanna fight. Holding my quete by my side making sure that its clean while I ride in my Lincoln down town car all black writing dirty with my homie hoody right beside me. Talking about this girl that he just met at a party last night. I stopped at the stop light and my homie big boss lighting up a joint in the back seat he dont give a fuck if the police trying to stop us, he dont really care, he's not on porral., All he'll gets is a slap on his hand taking the ticket for weed he had on his lap letting us go.