This is a song about "Banks"

Loot banks, rob stores and call yo mamma a whore

It's like we both forgot what we were fighting for

You heard banks was crackin skulls

We race foreign cars, custom models

Wouldn't it be nice if the banks didn't fuck up the loans

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

Know it good when she go no hands

The river of death has brimmed his banks

States the fate of an artist bent on brooklyn banks/

You got me in a trance, please take off your pants

Would be pleasant if the banks didn't fuck my loans

Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes

Those privileged fucks got to learn that we ain't taking no shit

Decides everything, the wall street banks, no they're loving it,