This is a song about "Ad carry"

It's trife, the strife inside this life, a knife and gun we carry,

And the life i live is hell see, i never thought i'd see

Im ad lib bin while the sticking to script like magnets

Think it's time you and i need to call it quits

Not a huge fan of attacking ad nauseam

As the chain swinglettin' shine, no sheenjust my dream

Rap and do the impossible like i can carry air.

Gas 'em like a rental, when i take off, tell the bitch take care

No more fucking cigarettes lit, no more stupid ass presentations and useless magazine ad bits

And everybody grieves, but still nobody seesrecollect your thoughts don't get caught up in the mix

Type of life a nigga kill or go to jail for

I also carry traits from my mother,

When life is too good to carry on

Full of shit, like i ate that john