This is a song about "Amount"

Account the amount we are paid

Pitchfork doesn't need a plate

They hatin'/ saying i ain't amount to nothing well your right i should simply embrace it

Nigga fuck that gin & juice, i'm fuckin with hennessyjust pour me a glass of that dark shit

Rationing the amount of trust i put into people

I smoke sweets in the suite, like shit is legal

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

Word~! don't nobody talk no more they all text message

But no amount could amount to a rap that could damage me

Fuck you bunch is here, never disrespect my family

But really i'm just caught in the loop, of understanding the truth

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

Of living in the ghettoyour mind gets twisted, just like a pretzelso it's time that i check out

Lyrics slur from my mouth, fuckas watch closely as it occurs with a limited amount

But the fucking bank account, any any any amount

They stop the whole game everytime i come around