This is a song about "Bitch i m from the hood"

I"m the designated driver

You wife ain't shit, we g'd her

And every nigga suddenly be rappin bout that trap shit

The false bravado of a ghetto robin from the hood its classic

When i die tell them to turn my coffin to stretch benz

Keep it a good stack i eat cheese from hood rats

The red album, lil red shortie, you can't touch her

Go pull out your m i gear from inside the dresser

Call levi's we can see about the home cook

That's right bitches, i aint from the hood

They claim it as their own, africa

I"m ah gut you and the bitch that's with ya

Represent for the south, man i rep it for the hood

For petty sake not even heavyweight, it's never good

I don't live in the hood

Fistful of wood, twisted for the good