This is a song about "Bars on bars"

Check my bank account, got racks on racks

Bars like cars the way i speed on tracks

Can't see his son shine like the four tops

And on his worst days, he's still writing bars

And niggas wouldn't call you bitch, i betcha

I'm going 24 bars on this shit like vendetta

My bars are so hard leave you on a gurney

I'm a g, and this is something you can't see

In some fucking yellow skinnies looking like a fucking faggot

See you rot,on the same banana,make your bars slip

I be spittin the bars,

And i'm still hurtin over pops

Aint no escapin my bars pound you on your chest like frustrated retard

But there's a devil in the ghetto tryin to tear it apart

Ya'll had your run, don't ruin ours

This is just a few bars