conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Too Late with the following description: French and Jimmy squash their 15 year beef to collaborate on the intro to Coke Boys 5. This marks their first collaboration.
  The two recently settled their differences on Instagram live. French saying:
  
  If there’s anybody out there watching from the young niggas, man, learn from this, don’t waste 15 years in the game when y’all could have been getting all kinds of bags together.
  I think [it was] two egos coming together, two big personalities. We was young. We was all crazy, and now we’re here. We’re older, we got kids,” [There’s] people looking at us, we gotta set the right example. We can’t be looking crazy out here. It is what it is, it’s all love. I’m trying to get back over on that plate.
   Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro: Florence Welch, 
  Jim Jones
   & 
  French Montana
  ]
  Dipset, Coke Boys
  Something epic, you know?
  French, what up? BX, what up?
  Harlem, what's bangin'?
  Lost in the fog, these hollow hills (
  Haha
  )
  Blood running hot, night chills (
  It's power in we
  )
  So long and lost, are you missing me? (
  You gettin' money or lookin' funny, huh? Huh?
  )
  Is it too late to come on home? (
  Huh?
  )
  Is it too late to come on home?
  Can the city forgive? I hear it's a sad song (
  Holla at me
  , 
  uh
  )
  [Verse 1: French Montana]
  Through the fire, right through the fall
  Big bag like Santa Claus
  New sauce for the summer sauce
  Marching band, we the drummer boys
  And tell the crib I'm on the way back
  Though walked to my goals, took the plane back
  And they prayed he ain't came back
  All Rocky like A$AP
  Un-decisive, persuasive, face lift
  Top down, ageless, timeless, stone age
  Running out of patience, serving up the patients
  No navigation, grind like bad brakes
  Eating lobster with the crabs, that's the bad taste
  Same niggas on the rise still from the bad days
  Niggas on the rat race
  Same niggas laughing at us started laughing with us
  'Cause all the slammed doors turned to Lamb', Porsches [Chorus: Florence Welch & 
  Jim Jones
  ]
  Is it too late to come on home?
  Is it too late to come on home?
  Can the city forgive? I hear it's a sad song
  Is it too late to come on home? (
  It's never too late to come home for a gangsta, uh, Capo
  )
  [Verse 2: Jim Jones]
  If nobody died, then it's not a beef (Facts)
  Contrary to the lies, we all got beliefs (As-salamu Alaykum)
  I still keep it in my ride or in my boxer briefs (Loaded)
  Hood nigga got them yachts docking by the beach (LA, what up?)
  They still treat me like a god when I'm in the H
   (Harlem)
  Cut lawyers that eat the charge like a dinner plate (Yanna)
  We was just ducking them charges on the interstate (Facts)
  Watch fifty, that's an extra twenty large in the face (Bust it down)
  We both getting money, that is not the issue (You hear me?)
  I'm trying to find my woosa like some chakra crystals (Pray for me)
  Still hit a nigga with a TEC but I ain't got a whistle
  Slide to the wake, make sure your moms get a box of tissue (Kleenex)
  We gon' hit whoever rocking with you (Who)
  Catch your ass in Houston, shoot you, make sure you got rockets with you (Nero, what up?)
  We come home, we get a welcoming committee
  When you fuck niggas go home, you ain't welcome in your city
   (Nigga)
  [Chorus: Florence Welch & 
  Jim Jones
  ]
  Is it too late (
  Too late for what?
  ) to come on home? (
  Nigga, when I show up late, I'm right on time
  )
  Is it too late to come on home? (
  Better late than never, ya heard?
  )
  Can the city forgive? I hear it's a sad song
  Is it too late to come on home? [Outro: Jim Jones]
  They tell me if you get money then it shouldn't be able to fit in your pocket, nigga
  My money can't fit in a bag so what type of bag you niggas is gettin'?
  We drinking Ace and Ciroc all night, you heard?
  I been a bad boy, tell Diddy I been selling that Danity Kane to get that dirty money, you heard me, money?
  French, what's up? BX, Harlem