This is a song about "B4l my shooters my gang get bitchs not lame know on the niggas know how we flock"

So i could find my rainbow, my pot of gold

Grillin shit out of the fridge and we don't know how old,

I just call it …remember all the dough

Cause these my niggas from the past ya know

Ya like that let me know on my the phone

And firm his beliefs... his heart made of stone

Ya’ll be highly obliged when i drop my shit

You niggas should know by now my skill is well rounded

With plans to reach the end even if i had to star slow

Judging on my past self/ shows the little do they know

Suns out/ we stunnin/ you know we get our shine on

Told her that her pastor was a faggot and he likes john

When you making a difference it's gone be haters

You know i got the heat like flamethrowers on my shoulders

Ya like that let me know on my the phone

For the dough you'll be like doe, stuck at home