This is ostensibly a street video but ends up being more intimate and intriguing than anything Wayne's camp could have bought. Its documentary-style footage underscores the sweet melancholy of the mirage-like beat and the loneliness of the sentiment (I'm single for the night), plus it's impossible to watch Weezy looking pensive sitting on the roof of his Lambo without thinking he probably shot this weeks before he reported to Riker's. Then again it's Wayne, so anything borderline depressive is tempered by sly wit—i.e. the classic line I cut my phone off/ both lines/ It's bout to get nasty/ pork rinds. Somebody had to say it!