This is a song about "Being poor making money guns gangs and losing family"

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

And so is this whole family

Making money was the ideal

And still a nigga made it here

Hustle for money and making livings

These been thinking we ain't tripping off lyrics

For shootin' done to you or we're losing' money

Although i’m in the land of milk and honey

I ain't fucking mexican, but we can have sex again

Once you grow up poor and blow up, money simply ain't the same,

They got all this money while people are poor

So like i said before don't act a fool

Rollin’ and chokin’ and movin’ slow motion, i’m floatin' on good

Cashing checks, making money, rinse and repeat is all i did

Not caring for lives, only profit and guns

The capital punishment, the loud police sirens