(Natti)nThe park got the pop like fish greasenFull to the gills like a hooked up six piecenWith a biscuit on the spot like a fresh toupeenFor sunshine on a fresh blue daynGents breaking out they fresh new jays to match hatsnLadies with they best do, laid and relaxnLike, the children skipping rope, double dutch chantin'nMiss Mary Mack, dressed in black, hands clappin'nSweet Cadillacs with they backs sub slappin'nPuppy love couples cuddle with they clothes matchin'nCops passin' harass and tail yanSometimes pull your ass over just to tell yann(Deacon)nI feel yous, amongst the rose and azaleasnGot congregatin' like Martin King in SelmanJust tryin' to have a good time like James and ThelmanMy cousin bang the Pac, my mama sang the MahalianFeels good today, all the hood's dismaynIs outshined by what coming together could equatenThrough my locs see my Kynfolk that stood with menDayton's spokes, crown on leather and wood displaynMy queen's dressed for impression, that's God sendin' blessin'nHot like the West End, Icebox on the FMnWe need this, more than Playboy needs Hef andnMore than your lungs need breath, uhnnFresh airnWhat a daynAt the parknnFresh airnWhat a daynAt the parknnFresh airnn(Deacon)nIt's gettin' cool, but the code still rednStripes and Patron on chill, my folks all fednLadies, what it do? Fellas, what it isnOughta have a blue carpet for the A's on the listnGot the bootleggers tryin' to appraise me some shitnLike twenty dollars can put sunrays on my wristnAnd fo sho', this hot sauce stays on my fishnYo the ladies, playas gamin' like live on 'emnDJ on the mic got the slide goin' (hey)nSoul Train line moves like the glide throwin' (ho)nOn the slow songs, grind, put pine in the ozonenFind somethin' fine to poke onnn(Natti)nAs the sun puts locs on, light is no mysterynHickory smoke's gone off the rotisserienPhysically driven all over my nose cavitynTiffany strut as her booty oppose gravitynHow do I get her without her cold slappin' me?nHave to been late in the park-parking lotnWhere trunks knock a lot and weed spark a lotnAnd humidity's scorching hot, will beef cook or rot?nSummer breeze, in need, like Benjis and JacksonsnInstead, pennies are stackin' and coppers' reactin'nTo how peoples' relaxin' in orderly fashionnIf you holdin' a rock then you ought to be passin'n'Cause they ain't playin', got a cell you can stay innCan this night go off right? I'm prayin'nPlease Lord, hear these words that I'm sayin'nOn this day, can angels party without Satan?