This is a song about "120 cooler"

The white boy sees this as a clearance, now its

Enough to make a jail where you throwin' your fits

And since my cell division i had to make a critical

I'm throwin around broads playing monkey in the middle

You think you're hip, you got that tank at abercrombie & fitch

The only reason why i put up with this stupid ass bitch

Man in the mirror, i can’t get my shot again

Locked up in a cell ain't have no cake for them

I feel like deaths around the corner

I refresh myself with water

Go to jail, your'e a criminal,

Got to the end of the tunnel

Stay gold, alchemy, nigga we rap's alpha team

Set the house up like toast,with a tank of gasoline

If its not couture, i will not go to her

Sons and daughters wander through the slums for running water