This is a song about "Amount"

Inside of me, but the thoughts it tells me are still evil

Rationing the amount of trust i put into people

Frown and a gun lit is all she could amount to confront with

And i can't denyi had some bitches in new yorksome puerto rican bitches

Better hope you can handle the amount of beef in ten cattle

Keep it real as penitentiary steelthis ain't no freestyle battle

I hope to live in a big house with a huge amount of space/

Wale, real nigga, where the totem, blowin' bomb haze

But i told them every single day that i'd amount to something

Now mama see that shit on oprah and know that it’s coming

All you want is a good amount of dough, and to shoot a bitch/

They frontin', they charles s. dutton movin' garbage

Backing up, like juvenile biggest fan was a moving truck

Rust from the amount that pile up, never to touch and filled with blood.

I'm just trying to paint that picture, when i'm rhyming up in this booth

That you need to set a curfew to the amount of bullshit beefs you fuse.