This is a song about "Bad things abot tobacco"

Walk outside grab out a tobacco lined cigarette, and light it up,

Backing up, like juvenile biggest fan was a moving truck

It's all good, finna dog that

She did things that were bad

When i am mad, and things look bad/

Bet i'm heavy with that

See, it's something about commitment though

To become a pimp, no drugs or tobacco

Fuck all the faculty, tobacco-packing acrobat

Make sure it's mean so them fiends keep on coming back

Realising that world leans on things

As far as these bars, my flow life sentence

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

Couldn't understand why things

Hindsight, dimes and fame, expensive things/

And i don't gotta talk about my feelings