Erica, Pt. 2

[Chorus]
Rollin' up tight reefer sticks, twist with both hands
I'm from the era of freakin' on the floor to the slow jams
Wake up, do a song, smoke, that's the program
So put a nug in, nigga we could smoke both strands

500 horsepower, shhhh on the Interstate
I'm tired of buyin' cars, nigga I'm tryin' to get some real estate
And I'm tired of seein' fuckin' Subway on my dinner plate
Every single night in the booth I'm eatin' dinner late
On the 101, windowns down, let it ventilate
We don't be kissin' in the mouth, I just penetrate
Life is a bitch from day 1 and not a minute late
And niggas be thinkin' Super Bowl, but it's a pennant race

The honey name was Erica
I met her in America
Only in America
Only in America

[Chorus]

I think about goin home all the time
I think about the times that can't be relived in my children's lives
I think about how I much rather be free than here
But I do not resent the calamities which have arrived
Or the disasters that may occur
For perhaps in these unpleasant instances–
Something which I do not like may be my salvation—
And perhaps in something that I may prefer, will be my doom
There's a blessing behind this all
One that a wise man such as myself will not ignore
For I have been given the opportunity to attain the reward for patience
Dom, continue to be good bro
Be there for Chip, don't withhold the knowledge you acquire
Remain steadfast, keep an open mind, don't stop loving love
Don't stop believing in life and yourself
More importantly, keep supplying that dope music

I love you bro
Joey Supreme