This is a song about "Amount"

But the fucking bank account, any any any amount

It's rainin' now somehow the fugitive's out

I threw my pair on the lightpole because of him

The amount of temptation surrounds me in isolation

Keep it real as penitentiary steelthis ain't no freestyle battle

Better hope you can handle the amount of beef in ten cattle

She self made, i'm self made

Account the amount we are paid

Frown and a gun lit is all she could amount to confront with

Can't be positive, when the ghetto's where you live

They ain't hard, swear to god, these niggas ain't real at all

Even if the amount of money is so small

Were funny enough to get a bogus amount of props.

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars