[Verse 1: Dom Kennedy] She keep talking 'bout getting plastic surgery I really hope she don't And I wish I was the type that really enjoyed writing you notes Video wit' Quik and Suga Free, but that wasn't no boat Them yachts out in Newport, tell me, 'Who on your boat?' While n***as lie about it, my soul girls cry about it I'm not a member of Black Hippy, but I recognize higher power You could eat pickles that's sour and sit in L.A. for hours And you still wouldn't know what it felt like back in '91 And that 325, that's what my pops known to drive Somebody said I should look for a house out in Oceanside I'm from OPM, baby, got to get that straight So you know it turn me on, I see her fix my plate Told her, 'Look at the album cover if you ever miss my face' I hope I'm on that sh** like Eric B. and Rakim, s**er Her mom said, 'Cut that song, uh, yeah, that is bumpin'' 'Bout time you found somebody out here That's really sayin' somethin' [Verse 2: Dom Kennedy] I think I'm addicted to dippin' down Normandie This could've been distributed by Priority Instead we keepin' all the royalties I stopped wearin' chains cause n***as' sh** lookin' foily And I heard what Chris Brown said, but I dick her down loyally I have to interrupt, lookin' at your spoiled bu*t Only raised by women, so you got waist and rhythms To get my attention through a dashboard Why you think little teenage boys always crash more? Lookin' at the new 11s, thinkin' 'bout gettin' cash Or waitin' on hoes to start shakin' that a** more I've never been to Cannes, France, but i made movies on my black L.A. New Era hat and Shawn Stussy Aw, f** it, I can't tell y'all sh**, except, 'Get to it' Gangsters used to wear nice shirts and drive big Buicks Now this n***a on the Internet tryin' to pitch music Nobody want to hear that sh**