This is a song about "1920 american gangsters"

Little white gangsters, i'd call that phase ironic,

Sixty-two, without no tint; missing roof on my new shit

My ancestors were brought here on american ships

I'm murdering instrumentals cause i rap with the conscience

If she cook and keep her vagina like a secret

Housing projects, middle class gangsters, aim and spark it,

But i look up to people gangsters geeks and equals

But i need your faith in me, i'm a sucka for love

Discerning gangsters see, burning bangers to sling, all of these mics happily,

Family is all i need but indeed them too can run me right up a tree

Just in case a nigga never see that thrill again

Gangsters walkin' 'round in suits, i bring out the thug in them,

We've condemned them, locked. in a cell of consumerism,the american dream.

But whatever it is baby hope you pledge to your dreams, forever my queen

Office full gangsters, prankster never know the span

Fuck whoever said the rap game wasn't edible man