Down by the bay is where that dream went down
My homie Juan, carrying cash
I grabbed the backpack and took a few risks
And now the ice hangs off me
We shot up, I'm not chasing fame
Backpack Boyz, the weed
Sometimes at the beach he cuts loose
She digs the champagne ones
And at Javier's the daiquiris get things started
We hit the club with the bros
I always gotta guard my ID
I pack bullets and, right beside me
My bro, we gotta grow herb
We turn our flowers into magic
And the green gets spent right
In L.A., where I found my home
From head to toe my body’s marked
And a blonde rolls with me
Only a few know my face
In Vegas I rock Balenciaga
Or flexing in the clubs with the artists
I always gotta guard my ID
I pack bullets and, right beside me
My bro, we gotta grow herb