Erica Part 2

[H:]

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

[H]

[Outro: Letter from Joey Supreme]

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