This is a song about "40 baby"

Liquor stores with the 40's, young niggas bite metal, shit,

It ain't my place to say and i hear all that

But save the 40, and bring it to my place,

Put expressions in their music and create the face

Like 40 scores of foreign wars i bring the bombs

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Parents treat me like a baby

And the discography, somethin' you got to see

First line & (sugar hill baby, sugar hill baby)

And where's the reparations, 40 acres in a agreement,

While i’m somewhere in the back, getting blowed like a blunt