That creed reaffirmed by those who planted flags from foreign battlefields to the surface of the moon; a creed at the core of every American whose story is not yet written: Yes We Can, Yes We Did, Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you
Sugar-free bitch, I ain’t goin’ out [?] I just passed out, but my numbers they written I’m on the land, I’m in the East DayDay in this bitch, I’ll bust in her sheets Get in these racks like a sweater Jugg you on the land like a quarter Finnessin’ these racks, that nigga a dork I’ma pass my partner the torch (I’ma pass my partner the torch, layup) I’m with’ the shit, pull up with’ that drum You don’t want smoke, that’s on my mama