Yeah, uh My Haitian niggas'll chop your shit My lady chocolate, thick, she like Taral Hicks The seats in the 6 resemble trail mix The torch is in the pail like a welder's kit The hitter sent the whip in a tailspin The tires made the V-12 skid I'm a big kid, I feel like I'm 12 again The crib come with Benson and Mr. Belvedere I'm cooking 'caine in the kitchen, we selling hella squares I might sell my Roc-A-Fella shares and take my bands elsewhere The pinky ring a mere 12 grand (it's nothing) I had a thing for Pam Grier (yeah) Wood paneling on the Wagoneer, the stairway cashmere Exotic cat hair, don't let my jacket scratch your hand I had my mans tap-dance on the grams Break the brick in half, Jackie Chan, shit was khaki tan I had twenty racks in my Balen' track pants A small cash advance to hit some blue magic, you see the package stamp Crack the Dutch Master to wrap the plants Scrap your plans, I'm back to El Capitan Been to hell and back, I'm just a black man Land the [?] The Taliban brand, but not from Pakistan What's crackin' fam? My bitch pulled up with the ratchet on her lap and said [Outro: Roc Marciano, Erma Franklin (Sample)] Am I the only one traveling this way? Let's get the fuck outta here, baby Word up, know this that Tom Hanks Big shit, nigga I feel like Am I the only one traveling this way? Dancin' on the piano with this one, nigga Am I the only one traveling this way? Am I the only one traveling this way?