This is a song about "Amount"

Tryin' to celebrate my independence day, will smith

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

So, why don't you fucking wipe that stupid look on your face

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

Mix a little syrup, it ain't no way to cure him

The amount of temptation surrounds me in isolation

Then it's back to the corner where we sell cracksome of you niggas is bustas, you running round

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

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.

Mother could care less , i never could amount to shit,

A good head on her shoulders, i need to feel that

But the fucking bank account, any any any amount

It's a man's worldbut real women make tha shit go around

And the discography, somethin' you got to see

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