This is a song about "30 words"

A 30 rack, nick of grass, an acid tab

Cause i'm ill bitch, they couldn’t make a pill for the rap

"rappers don't paint pictures with words

That try to chase these skirts

Through prosperity of words

Feel like i’m movin' backwards

Paintin perfect pictures ain't never worked, my misery

Im ridein around with that big 30, these fat bitch's they stay thirsty

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

:30-1:02- its young zeke watch me rise and glowmy words come up encrypted with gold,

30 mins with this solid will surely rock her world,

Uh, and how i wish i would've met you first