This is a song about "Bank account low"

Here's my account, son, of why i rap so good,

Call me a product of my own damn hood

Trying to rob my lyrical bank,

Whatever it takes to live and stand

They setting the bar low,

Bad bitches never loved them though

We rap for pink slips, loser deletes their account

I try to be the guy, you think about

You can all get hit and we ain't lenient to women

Cause the account never empty, naw it stay full son

Mike, you think i'll mike out/ but i got you bank account, what do you doubt/

And if i wasn't high, i'd probably try to blow my brains out

So ain't no future fuckin' youi ain't tha bitch ta love yacan't do a damn thang for you

Hes a bellend in the nation, thats got a very poor bank account situation,cant afford to

Im focused on a bigger bank

600 benz, house six hundred grand