This is a song about "Alabama hot pockets"

No narcotics in my pockets, only got 1 jackson in my wallet

Can i meet that, where you be at, everybody try to beat that

I don't kiss and tell, that's so middle school

Churches searching for the pockets of the poor

I try to tell them i'm one of the

Jump in line and fight, n.y. to alabama,

There's chronic seeds in my pockets, i should probably lay low

My other capo in this big-ass.. conglomerate called death row

They'd probably find me in the woods hanging from a rope

Durag wrapping my waves up, pockets full of hope

From tampa all the way to alabama,you can hear them donks trunks slamming

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

So tell me i ain't shit, go and embellish it a bit

Empty you, not pockets, ima take my glock and cock it