This is a song about "Account"

Got a stack of ones and a a lack of funds in an account, you ain't even know it,

I love it when it's girl upon girl with one manay, put your butt on my mustache, fuck that

Just delete that old account, no one will be sad that you're gone.

She told me that the radio's been playing the same song all day long

We rap for pink slips, loser deletes their account

We smoke loud, might have to get your ears checked out

Dough ain't nothing to joke about, she open up when that dough come out

Okay lets have a look at your account and see what it's all about:

And me? i'm fresh prince, i'm will smith to the hood

Here's my account, son, of why i rap so good,

I'll diss you all, make you delete your account,

Bein' a woman, a black woman at that, no doubt

And my bank account look just like a phone card

Hoes pop from the corda to hope park

Mike, you think i'll mike out/ but i got you bank account, what do you doubt/

Cuz if i hit it now these feelings take a different route