This is a song about "About being poor"

You say the words that can get me back in focuswhen i was sick as a little kid

I'm tired of being a stale white punk ass kid, that raps about poppin off the pill lid,

Then i'd brag about you being my baby

On they twitter writing novels, see

Somebody call the pastor, this bastard is so possessed

I care about proving people wrong, not being the best,

I see a f-cken stargot your momma screamingfor me, like i'm eldebargelookin at my skin

His story goes about summers, where he now suffers not being in the competition

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

But i should really stop worrying about your well being

Boggled when you read a poem about me being bottled up

Backing up, like juvenile biggest fan was a moving truck

Played like a fucking game and always being talked about. so if you hatin shut

Shit, i don't give a fuck, your family looking for you, wish them good luck

No fx, in these doper than sess sessions son

Was pac right about being conceived in prison