This is a song about "Bitch and hoes"

And yeah we up in stadium, quarterbacking hoes

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes,

I'm chasing money, not the liquor, y'all ain't even close

And keep out of the way of the hoes.

Like the limbs on ya feet, i suppose

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

In front of our building, they was my heroes

For all the killas and the 100 dollar hoes

Best believe i'm leaving with more of those

I bestow blows that freeze foes and sweep hoes.

X's and o's, you must be the rose

Chillin back smoking weed writing raps and fucking hoes

I be staying at the roosevelt more than marilyn goes

No bullshit, every shy bitch can get a rose

I could talk about diamonds and all my bitches and hoes,