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