This is a song about "Back garden"

Cause you know, aside from me strugglin' or coming up in one of the most

We leaving ya in the back shed hanging by the neck with the garden hose

Treat a broad outside like i got five thou when i'm out y'all know i don't reach

She's your garden peach, you're her guard indeed, gonna charge, besiege

Shit, that birkin bag make the old dude mad

Can you answer back, answer back

To pay for the food in his garden its almost time for harvest its a combination of toxins

But i'm from jers' and we don't play that shitfrom the clare down to north bricks, all my niggas flipping chips

It's even more beautiful than the garden of eden.

When it come to pistols, these niggas don't john lynch them

Tryin to get a motherfucker to telland couldn't nobody diss my nigga

I feed them. a long time ago i slept in the garden of eden. i yell a

Rotting in a graveyard garden, six feet deep in your wooden coffin

So i can write about my life of sina couple bottles of gin

Dead faces keep my money in a body bag

Back-to-back packin' bags back and forth with fifths of jack