This is a song about "A young boy leaving in the streets"

Pack it up thirty minutes to the jet leaves

Watch a nigga snap back, dead in the streets

Heating up like may weather, dog i'm on that floyd shit

Who ever thought the young boy would turn around and do it?

Not a whack job that packs crack rocks in the streets

Because i'm seventeen, compose my own beats

Ima lay it down and have myself a taste

On my family’s hate for the young boy they raised.

But they paved a bad road so there's crack in the streets,

Goin crazy, i might be no sleep having light dreams

Carefree i don’t need the stress

In the streets ,i guess this shit is a mess

You know the common statistic inspired by hoop dreams

Mention me in a tweet, speak of me on the streets,

We're like broken bones, a soaking rose that's grown in the streets,

Ain't tryin to be your god, just want to live my dreams