This is a song about "40 s and chronic"

That doesn't make sense like nigga kids wearing cap and gowns

Welcome to the dirty south,we don't have 40's it's a 30 ounce

Drinkin' 40's, whippin' shit, and talkin' shit, their overtones,

I take tokes while you little niggas take notes

24's on that escalade and ya' chick in the back, gettin' laid,

When i saw that 28 to put me in and out of state

But folks just look at ‘em and stare, like they’re holding mac 10’s,

With my semen and oppressed by my give a fuck less

You by the cooler yea you niggas don't get no tick

Let's sit back and watch the world burn, take turns, blaze chronic,

All these little dreams you got, they're not shit

Me and homies sat back, relaxed blazin' chronic,

Laced the weed with cocaine, and now i rock chronic,

We touch down in moscow and take flicks like click click